Caveat Lector: The 17th Hunger Games
by TheAmazingJAJ
Summary: The nation of Panem is in an uproar. Rumours are taking a hold in the Districts, and rebellion is openly spoken of. Something has to give, but 24 more tributes will still be sent to their deaths. Take care, and beware the Hunger Games.
1. Prologue: Green Light

**Isa James, 15  
** **Victor of the 16th Hunger Games**

The warm, light red upholstery of the train booth, the red colouring chosen to invigorate tributes and mentors alike, does nothing to bolster Isa's mood. She shakes her head and sighs as the train rushes towards Six, her fingers entangled in her dirty blonde hair. The locks of hair are twisted even more tightly between her fingers as the train rockets around another bend, and she scowls at Doug with a sour, bitter face. "You're telling me that I can't talk to Tony's family? I can't even say why I convicted him? I think that I'm doing them a favour, giving them money so that I repay them for anything I've done. Isn't that fair? Why wouldn't the Capitol want me to do a thing like that, Doug? Why?"

"N-no, I didn't say it that way," pleads Doug, drumming on the tableside absentmindedly. "But you can't go giving money to them, even if you've had a change of heart about the boy! It does get suspicious, Isa. You have to keep to yourself for a while, at least until the Capitol is satisfied with your performance. If you don't perform up to their standards, there will be consequences. This is how you lose your _family_ , Isa. I know it's hard to understand, but that's your life now. That's _our_ life, all of the victor's lives."

Isa bites her lip in frustration, a drop of blood from the raw, dark pink skin falling onto the table. She doesn't notice. "So I can stay in the Victor's Village with my family, then. Unless they don't want to come live there, of course. I guess… I guess I'll be alone in my house, then. No big deal. I think."

"Then we'll look after one another. And if you want to, you can likely live with your family most days. Just check in at your house every so often, and the Capitol will be none the wiser." Doug reaches out to Isa with his left hand, smiling comfortingly. "You're going to be fine, Isa. I'm just looking out for you."

Isa gives a small smile, shaking Doug's hand. " _Well_ , if I'm going to live with you, I'm going to have to make sure that you stay off of the morphling. Hmm… we need to find you a supplement to keep you off of it, don't we? How about… sugar? That's always helpful for addictions. I know a lot of people who have a sugar tooth. Don't worry, you'll have one by the time I'm finished with you. I can ask our chef to..."

Doug leans back and watches the train hurtle through the last of the mountain tunnels, the tall, striking outline of Six up ahead.

Isa sounds younger than she has in weeks.

 **.oOo.**

She looks out of the car window as the James estate grows closer, the front door open with a woman standing on the front porch. Her mother. Martin James joins his wife soon after, and Briar with a bundle in her arms - what could it be? Clothing? Why would she get clothing for Isa when she's come back from the Capitol? - walks towards the car. "Excuse me?" she asks the driver as the car slows to a halt. "I'd like to walk the rest of the way."

The driver gives a nod and stops entirely, allowing Isa to slip out in a small velvet dress that her escort had made sure that she wore for today. After all, she'll be dining with the Mayor of Six with her family. It's supposed to be a big occassion, and the escort seemed very insistent about Isa keeping a good image.

She doesn't care. If the dress gets muddy, if her hair's stylish locks are mussed, she won't let that dictate how she is. She's still Isa, after all. She still killed others to make her way back home.

It doesn't even scare her to think that. It feels in the past, like everything before the Games began. She doesn't know if she's happy, she's sad, or even disturbed that she feels… nothing about killing those two kids. Bernard and Giovanna, the Capitol said their names were. Should she remember them? Should she forget?

She lets herself forget the Games as she falls into her mother's arms and gives Briar a huge smile, her boyfriend awkwardly standing near the crystal glass panes of the front door. She doesn't have to be a victor when she's home.

She can be Isa.

 **.oOo.**

Doug sleeps in her living room for the first week after she comes home, but tonight he's decided that Isa is trauma-free - an obvious fact - and is sleeping in his own home to get a good night's sleep on the specially designed mattress from the Capitol. And she's happy. Not that Isa didn't want him sleeping in her home, it did feel nice to know that he was there just in case anything did happen, but she has plans for tonight. She wants to visit the Dongalls, to at least meet them and say something about Tony. It's only right.

Or so she thinks.

She grabs a pair of running shoes and quickly laces them up, putting on an safely anonymous jacket to hide her identity. She doesn't know how many morphlings - or worse, _drunks_ \- had seen her Games, but she doesn't want to run into anyone who didn't like how she performed in the Games - or someone who liked her Games too _much_. No, it's good to be anonymous today.

The streets feel cleaner than before the Games as she walks along them, and she realizes with a laugh of surprise and intimidation that the logo of her badge - the District Six Community Watch - is emblazoned on dozens of signs around the neighbourhood. Perhaps the Capitol was inspired by her movement, and cleaned up the streets when she won. If they ever mentioned it to her, it came in one ear and out the other.

A small home, dingy yet clean and bright at the same time, emerges in front of her eyes, and she knows from all of her weeks watching the door for Tony to come out with a pack of beer that it is the Dongalls home. Without hesitation, she swiftly raps on the door and waits for whoever is on the other side to open the door for her.

It's a tall girl with bright eyes that opens it for Isa, her eyes losing that shine of hope once she sees the victor and hardening into a dull, mean glare. "Get out."

Isa shoves her foot in between the door before the girl has a chance to close it, holding her gaze for gaze. "I want to talk."

"After you ruined my brother? You demonized him, little Miss oh-so-rich Isa James. You demonized him, with no idea of what he was actually like. I was trying to get him off of the drink. I was trying! And then..." the girl shuts her eyes tightly, unwilling to let Isa see her cry. She only opens them once more when the ave of emotion passes, flashing the victor a glare. "You are a horrible human being, and I'd rather see the girl from Nine come out than you."

Then she shuts the door in Isa's face, a muffled sob escaping through a crack in the side of the door before a set of footsteps hurry up some stairs and slam a door loudly.

Isa stands there for another few minutes in shock, trying and failing to comprehend what the girl had done. Why? Why did Tony's sister hate her so much, even if Isa just wanted to help fix up the mess she had caused, even if she didn't think she had caused it?

Or maybe she did.

Maybe she _is_ a bad person.

Maybe she needs to change.

But first, she needs to go home and hide in her room until these stubborn tears go away for good.

 **.oOo.**

The weeks pass by and she floats through it all, her good cheer seemingly back after having vanished for a bit with the Dongalls incident. But yes, she feels better about the fact that Akira Dongalls told her that she had demonized Tony. There was truth to that, truth that she's forgiven herself for. A James doesn't carry guilt for long.

She feels the first hint of awe that she survived the arena when she sees the helicrafts drop goods around the city, Isa coming to the middle of City-3 to see the little children scream in delight for the goods and luxuries tucked away in the large boxes. Not everyone gets something from the boxes, but everyone who seemed to need it did. But most importantly, the tesserae office is offering free grain and oil to everyone who comes to register for the mandatory one slip. Her victory's doing good in this city, good that it desperately needs. From what she's heard, City's 1 and 2 are celebrating as well, and they're shouting her name in delight in the streets.

She has her first nightmare about the arena when she goes to bed, but when she wakes up, only a smile of relief is on her face. Whatever she suppressed in the arena, it's finally leaving.

 **.oOo.**

The tour passes by quickly, and Isa doesn't mind. She reads off of the little slips that her escort had prepared for her, smiles to anyone who waves, and ignores the stares of the families from Nine and Twelve. They have to accept that she's won, after all. Her discreet donation to both of the families should be more than enough to keep the families satisfied.

And the days fly by once more until like magic, spring comes once more and she realizes with a jolt of panic that she'll be mentoring for the first time with Doug.

It's a victor's life that she's trapped in.

But when she sees her tributes for the first time, she realizes with awe that they're her age, yet they'll be looking up to her for advice. Now that, that's truly terrifying. And when she boards the train once more and sees the light red interior, she almost wants to walk back into the city and pretend her tributes never existed in the first place. But she won't leave. She'll be _damned_ if she can't do anything for them.

A James always keeps their word, after all.

 **Isa is shallow and rude but she's a wonderful victor anyways and I won't hear anything else about her unless you have deep and interesting insights that you want to share with me :P**

 **And to everyone here, heyo! It's nice to have you here! You might be curious about what this story is, and I'm here to briefly inform you of what is happening. It's a partial SYOT, but with 24 open spots for all of you lucky people to submit to!**

 **:o**

 **I know, it's kind of strange and you may be questioning the fact why I have 24 open slots, instead of only like ten where the pov tributes go. The answer? I am too lazy to write a full SYOT, but am simultaneously too lazy to make OCs and want y'all to give them to me instead. I'm too good for this world, I know. The chapter lengths won't be long, the updates will be quicker, and it's going to be a good time.**

 **Now don't worry to those who are panicking over what slots are POV slots, there'll be 12 designated POV slots. Those spots? They are: the**

District One Female  
District Two Male  
District Three Female  
District Four Male  
District Five Female  
District Six Male  
District Seven Female  
District Eight Male  
District Nine Female  
District Ten Female  
District Eleven Male  
District Twelve Male

 **And that's it! The other spots will be open, but they will have no povs and will not be able to win. :( but the ones open will! :D Go submit to the ones listed above if you want povs! Most of them will be open until February 3rd for submitting, but I'll also be closing slots that I'm happy with so that we get started on intros while simultaneously promoting the story. So: POV slots are competitive, and non POV slots are first come first served!**

 **POV TRIBUTE FORM  
** Name:  
Age:  
District:  
Gender:  
Appearance:  
Picture (Either this or appearance is optional, but you need at least one):  
Personality:  
History:  
Family:  
Friends/Enemies/Acquaintances:  
Reaped/Volunteered:  
Reaction/Reason:  
Token:

Strategy for Training:  
Private Sessions:  
Predicted Score Range (0-3, 6-9, 10-12):  
Chosen Weapon:  
Interview Outfit (Optional):  
Interview Angle:

Thoughts About Killing:  
Allying? With Whom?:  
Would They Trust Their Allies:  
Bloodbath Plan:  
Will They Die in the Bloodbath (subject to change, I do like big bloodbaths):

Plans for the Games:  
How Might They Win:  
How Might They Die:  
Predicted Placement:  
Would They Go to a Feast:  
Fight or Flight Instinct:  
Theme Songs (At least three)

 **NON-POV TRIBUTE FORM  
** Name:  
Age:  
District:  
Gender:  
Appearance:  
Picture (Either this or appearance is optional, but you need at least one):  
Personality Traits:  
History: (short)  
Reaped/Volunteered:  
Reaction/Reason:  
Token:

Strategy for Training:  
Private Sessions:  
Chosen Weapon:  
Interview Outfit (Optional):  
Interview Angle:

Allying? With Whom?:  
Would They Trust Their Allies:  
Bloodbath Plan:

Plans for the Games:  
Predicted Placement:  
Would They Go to a Feast:  
Fight or Flight Instinct:  
 **And here is the form. There are reasons why I ask for so many songs for our pov tributes, reasons that you will come to realize. Google random ones if you don't know what songs are and you're from the North Pole or Mars ;D I can also decide ones for you, I gotchu! Just be prepared for them to be cringy and not thought inspiring**

 **To clarify, no review submissions are allowed, sorry guests :( as well as this, you can only submit one pov tribute, but you can have a second tribute in the non pov crowd! Hooray! If it takes a while to fill up the non-pov peeps, we can open the waters to two non-pov tributes per sub and so on, but for now it's a soft cap on one of each. You can submit more than one to both, but only one will be accepted.**

 **Please title your PM to me something with the words 'Caveat Lector Form' in it. Makes it easier for all of us.**

 **And that's basically it! You can look at my worldbuilding and list of victors for more clarification on this verse, and use the form both here and on my profile to make your tributes! I wish all of you the best of look, and hope to see a lot of you submit! By the way, we're diving straight into intros first. No cutting around the corner with this. See you with our first pov tribute, which could be any of the slots that I'll close before I write the chapter on my profile so you don't make a tribute for an already closed slot. :P Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	2. Triton Clifford: Brave

**Triton Clifford, 17  
** **District Four Male**

I like to stand in the shallows when my friends and I go out swimming.

Not that I'm _scared_ of the water. No teen in Four is or would be afraid of water unless they almost drowned in it several times over - and I'm pretty sure that most would still go diving back under the waves after their limp body is resuscitated on the beaches, laughing all the way. But I've never been the most confident swimmer, preferring to watch and snicker as others mock fight in the deep. So when Seamus and Rodney challenge the girls to a ducking contest out in the deep, I decline the offer of playing and instead stand in the shallows once more, watching everything. It's easier to watch, to observe instead of taking part in things. I can evaluate situations, plot my strategies, and never go in without a plan. That's how people _die_ in the Games, going into a battle without a thought of how they're going to win. No, I'll stay in the shallows, watching from the sidelines instead.

I might not be on the greatest highlights of the Games, but I won't be the one to die on national television.

Marlene comes running out of the water and barrels into me, both of us falling into the sand and instantly spitting out mouthfuls of the bright, gritty sand out of our mouths - and onto each other.

Marlene is the first to laugh, hauling me up onto my feet and falling back into the water to get all of the sand off of her body. "Panem, I've got to look where I'm going more often. No, Seamus, you and your boyfriend haven't won yet just because I had to get my sunscreen! You have to wait a bit before claiming victory!"

A sharp retort from Seamus, whose blonde hair is plastered to the sides of his tanned, sharp, angled face, causes Lumi to snort in disbelief from where she's lurking near the edge of the waters. It's only a foot or two deep from where she is, but she still manages to seem under the surface of the water. All except for her face, her dark eyes watching the arguing couple push at one another, unaware of Marlene running to surprise them with a well-aimed tackle. Lumi snickers as all three fall into the crystal-clear water, and I move closer to her. "How's the game going?"

"Eh, the boys will win as usual. You know Marlene always fights dirty and we end up having to forfeit the game," sighs Lumi, who fails to look despondent about her imminent loss. I smile and walk over to her to cheer her up, but her failed attempt at melancholy is a trick - she leaps up and knocks me into the water. I sputter and push away from Lumi, the water in my eyes until I brush it away with my now sand-covered arm.

"I guess I better be more careful next time," I say as Lumi bursts into laughter, the dunking game between Marlene, Seamus and Rodney forgotten. "But I gotta get back home soon. The Games are only in a few weeks. I have to keep working, keep practicing, you know?"

"Who'll care for your fish?" Lumi asks as we begin to walk the small path back up to the central village of Four. "I mean, _I_ could do it if your mother doesn't have the time to care for them. My fish are doing quite well, and I'm as capable as anyone else."

"I mean, if you want," I say, smiling a little as we continue past one of the overturned fishing boats and towards the cottage that is nestled among the brightly coloured homes of Four. They're all different colours of red and blue and yellow and green and white, each one a beacon of love, of safety for those who call it home. When fishers come back from their time in the sea, they first see the colours of the village before anything else. They're brighter than the faded sands of the beaches, the tall, dark cliffs surrounding the villages scattered around Four, and the dark, tulmultuous sea.

"You know, some of the fishermen are talking of leaving Four. They've found a few little islands at the edge of their ranges, islands not known about by Panem. They're asking others if they want to leave." Lumi looks towards me with worry, her dark tan turning a little pale at the thought. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"

"Never."

"Good. I wouldn't want you to leave. It wouldn't be the same without you."

"Even when I'm in the Games?" I ask, picking up a stray stone, rubbed smooth by the sea. I finger it before throwing it into the street, the stone skipping before resting on the pavement. Four only have a few paved streets, and we're close to the Hall of Justice, the only place that the Capitol actively upkeeps.

"Well, I wouldn't be disappointed if you didn't step forward in a month," Lumi mutters while looking away at the houses above us.

"I would. I've put so much effort into this, Lumi. I'm going to come back. I promise."

"I hope." She lifts her fingers and traces my arm, her hand lingering over the solid muscle before tearing away like it's hot. She nods a hurried goodbye and breaks into a run, her light blue t-shirt fluttering in the breeze.

I start running as well, liquid dripping down my cheeks as I hurry towards home. If only I knew how to be more social, more inept with others. Maybe I would be if Mom and Dad had stuck together, instead of splitting up ages ago and moving to different districts. Maybe if I had a father who was here, instead of in District Two, and a sister who could talk to me, be _friends_ with me, I wouldn't be this helpless.

But instead, I'll just run until these stubborn tears go away.

 **A/N: People on discord are encouraging *cough cough yelling at me cough cough* to finish this author's note so here we go! This is the first of twelve intros, and I'm happy to report that I have the energy to do more soon :DD Keep submitting, and we'll have our roster by the 10th of February! Try to go for those non pov slots, those need a bit of love lol**

 **How was Triton? I hope I did him well, and thanks to the lovely AmericanPI for the first confirmed pov slot! I hope you love your boi!**

 **Anyways, that's all I got for you because I am lazy as expected XD review, submit, and so on and so forth! I'm excited to write this batch so far :DDD Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	3. Chase Farlay: Take It Easy

**Chase Farlay, 16  
** **District Eight Male**

There's only sixteen kids in my class this year.

We all joke that it's a curse that our group has lost so many to the Games in the past few years, but that doesn't erase our uneasiness about the whole affair. Five kids have been reaped for the Games in the past four years.

That's five more than you expect in your class of twenty-four students.

Most of us don't take the curse seriously, laughing it off whenever it's brought up by an outsider of our group. Six's education system groups twenty-five students into a class for the rest of their lives in the public schools around our district, and all are stuck together until they graduate in the twelfth year. So we've known each other for most of our lives, some bonding while others keep to themselves, unwilling to make friends in case their families have gang ties or whatnot. Worse things have happened from people befriending those from unruly families.

But when we all approached our twelfth year of age, we started watching our classmates disappear. First it was the intelligent Velvet, pierced through the throat by the girl from Eleven, then little Thomasin, thrown into the fourth Games to make it to the final eight. Minutes after the interviews, we watched her fall into one of the traps in the arena. The coroners couldn't piece her back together for a wake. The boy was from our class as well and he died suddenly, barely living long enough to say a word - the girl from Four cut off his tongue before he could finish his sentence.

Chanelle was chosen for the fifteenth, and she lived for quite a long time - until she was betrayed by her district partner. Tomas Spoole's kept to himself ever since the Games, but he doesn't have to go outside to feel the hatred from so many of Eight's citizens who had known Chanelle. Then Nehemiah was chosen for the sixteenth, and died quickly in the bloodbath. It's quite frightening to some - we lost three more people who had paid to transfer out of the 'cursed class', and another studied hard enough to skip a grade just so he didn't have to be in this class.

Most of us just attend the funerals and pretend that we don't mind, but we all see the spots where those extra desks should be. We know that we've been chosen to die more than anyone else. Some knew the dead more than the others, but we all feel the loss. We feel it in our bones that we could be the next to be asked to step forward at the reapings.

But as for me? I've never minded the curse. After all, how could it affect me? I'm one in thousands, a small little dot in Eight.

Or so people have said. I like to think I mean something, that I'm important. After all, why wouldn't I be? Why _couldn't_ I be? As long as I want it, I can achieve it. Dad always says that I shouldn't be so cocky, but I don't listen to my old man very much.

Where would the fun be in that?

I'm sitting on a worn set of steps, leading up to a stalwart grey factory looming in the light blue sky. The smog has cleared away today, allowing the bright, beautiful yellow sun to shine down on the dark-red school that I attend with the throngs of kids around me. Patches of green grass are scattered around the fence that surrounds the school, little pieces of hope dotting this grey landscape. I don't notice the broken pieces of Eight, but I see the new, the good, the things that I want to see. If we all focused on the good, there would be nothing wrong with the world.

Maybe that's why I'm so happy. I only focus on the light.

I tear myself away from the steps and stand up while stretching my arms, turning towards some of the other kids who are waiting for the school to open it's gates and let us all in from the chilly breeze. I flash a grin at one of the girls, making sure that my hair is slicked back. A thorough pat from my hand reveals that it's all in place, and I saunter over to the girls. "Hey, ladies. I can't seem to see the sun today, you're all so bright."

A girl with dingy red curls and ripped, worn jeans giggles, and I crack a grin. "Pretty nice day, don't you think? Although you all put it to shame."

"Go away, Tracks," Winona shouts from the end of the line of giggling teens. "Or put your money where your mouth is. Bet you that you don't know any of their names."

"Although you certainly should know mine," I smirk, ignoring Winona for the time being. She's harmless. "Tracks, in case you missed it the first time around."

"You mean your silly nickname you gave yourself in the first grade?"

"Well, you still use it," I throw back at Winona, who looks like she's been patted on the shoulder - smug and prideful. "I think Winnie's a little judgmental, ladies. Too much perfume does that to a girl."

"Then stop spraying yourself with deodorant!" Winona smiles at me, knowing that I don't have a comeback. "You're a cheapskate, Tracks. Run back to your band and go play a tune that's as cheap as your deodorant. I can smell that you got from the sesterce-store. It smells like you don't care about it"

"Well - well, it hasn't kept you away, has it?" I grimace inwardly at the weak reply. Winona gets the best of me every time, doesn't she?

Winona stands up slowly, short blonde hair spilling over her sharp, angled cheeks as she walks towards me. She grabs my arm and traces one brightly painted nail up it, enjoying the tingle she makes me feel. She always likes seeing me blush. "Maybe you should stop thinking that people follow you, and realize it's because you chase after them."

Then her lips touch mine, and all I can see for a second are a million shooting stars before she steps away, that infernal cocky smirk still hovering on her lips. "Checkmate, Tracks. Until we feel like trying this game once more, then."

Then the bell rings and she vanishes into the sea of students hurrying to class, leaving me to stand and stare.

I'll move soon, I'll shake it off soon. I won't let myself be late to class because of a kiss that I've had with Winona thousand times over this year.

But first, I want to take it easy.

 **A/N: And that's another intro! We're starting to move more quickly with this story, aren't we? Anyways, I hope you liked Chase, or Tracks as he likes to be called. A big thanks to paperairline for this guy, and I hope I did him justice!**

 **By the way, the little curse thingy won't be very big in the story. I just wanted to explore what could happen to a class in a phenomenon such as the Games and what coincidences may occur XD Don't obsess over that! Look more at the dialogue!**

 **Anyways, keep submitting! I did a poll on my profile asking if you guys were okay with opening the District Four Female as a pov slot because I've had so many good tributes and want room for as many as I can, and the majority (aka 5/8) said yes! So now, the District Four Female is a new spot to fight for! Go submit :DD**

 **I'm hoping to keep churning out intros, so keep submitting until the 10th of February! I'm loving all of these tributes so far :3**

 **That's all I got for you! I'm doing pretty well with updates for this, so let's see if I can't move this quickly for the next bit! That'd be great :3 Go submit, review, and whatnot, and I'll see you with the third intro. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	4. Gadget Sycamore: Better Life

**Gadget Sycamore, 13  
** **District Three Female**

It's six in the morning when Gadget wakes, silently getting off of her mattress and reaching for the tattered, worn slippers that she puts on every morning so that she can tread more lightly around the house. It's a fine line between being quiet and waking her grandfather, especially when he's such a light sleeper. She has to be quiet on the wooden floors she and her grandfather had put in place in the cloth and board home they call their own.

Especially if she wants to get anything that she'd prefer staying to herself _done_.

Her hair gets in her face and she pushes the brown mess back behind her ears, frowning as she turns on the stove. It's making a little sputtering noise that she doesn't quite trust, a sign that the original owner had thrown it into the dump for them to scavenge for a reason, but she still turns on the burner and slides the pan onto the surface so that she can fry a quick meal of eggs for herself. It's a simple process, one that's been done countless times before, and she smiles as she flips the egg onto her plate - a skill that she's perfected from burning her fingers too many times to count - and dabs a bit of tomato sauce to add flavour to her breakfast before digging in with her fork. Five minutes later, she's finished the small meal. She's free to work on whatever she wants to until she has to make breakfast for Grandfather.

When putting the carton of eggs back into the tired, old ice box, Gadget notes that Grandfather had bought muffins on their last trip to the corner store. She reaches for one with chocolate chunks buried into its sides, pauses, then snatches it and hurries to her favourite armchair next to the window, a small opening in the cloth of the tent that they've been living in for the past few years. She reaches for the crisp new novel that she's bought up by saving sesterces whenever she went to the store to buy food for herself. Her grandparents often were too tired to go and sent her whenever she was able when she was younger, but the muffins had been a purchase of their own when her grandmother felt healthy enough to head into town. But it was only Grandfather who went now - Grandma had passed after a bad cold that had turned into pneumonia. At least, that's what the undertaker had told little Gadget when she watched Grandma's stiff body carried away, carted off to the family grave along with her mother and father, killed in a car crash as they walked home from the factories together.

She had always been glad Grandma went to town.

She takes a small bite of the muffin and looks at the pages of the novel, a boy's life dancing in between lines as he tries not to trip over his own two feet. She giggles when he accidentally feeds the cattle chickenfeed instead of the usual grains that they're supposed to receive - she doesn't know what grains they would actually need in order to be fed, she isn't from _District Ten_ , but she can appreciate the humour of an honest mistake, especially when the chickens flock towards the cow pan and peck at the bull's eyes in order to get their fill.

Grandfather may not approve of novels, ones that he described as too weighted down with prose and nostalgia to make any sense, but why do they hate things that can bring you so much _joy_?

When she hears the first sigh drift from their side of the tent, she knows that she's got to get on breakfast before they wake up and come into the kitchen. She tucks the book into a pack that she carries to the factory every day. She doesn't worry about them snooping inside of it, the grease and grime that's collected on the cloth - that's what happens when she leaves her pack in the factory when she works for seven hours - is more than enough to keep him at bay. Grandfather never did like grime.

She turns on the stove again and gets out the eggs and a block of cheese, cutting it into thin little strips before throwing it onto the pan and stirring it around. The mass of egg and cheese soon turns firm and sizzles as it scrambles. Gadget smiles as she takes it off of the stove and gets the toast that she had thrown into the oven, the crisp sides two shades away from being burnt. She throws them onto a plate and dishes out the scrambled eggs, starting on putting away her own plates and gathering her supplies so that she'll be ready when the truck comes by.

Grandfather walks slowly out of the bedrooms, thanking Gadget as he takes a plate of food and sits down slowly, her makeshift cane right beside her chair. He chews, swallows, then continues the process with mild tremours in his right hand. Gadget hides a sigh of annoyance before rushing in to take away the chipped, weathered plates from her grandfather as he finally finishes the meal.

She's just glad that they had the sense to get better ingredients this time instead of the cheap, cracked eggs that they usually bought for half price at the store to save their money - something that would seem wise when they're living off of only a few sesterces a week, but doesn't when the eggs are spoiling by the third day and she's trying to make them into something substantial.

But none of that matters anymore - she's got work.

The blare of the pickup truck's horn causes her to grab her bag quickly, her grandparents waving at her in the ramshackle home before turning back to their own devices. They'll go out scavenging in the dumps and surrounding areas later, it's always helped them all to repair the broken down supplies in the tent home. With Grandfather's eye for anything useful, they'll be able to find a few things that can tide them over to next week, along with her salary.

She runs along the side of the house and bursts onto the road, the truck moving along steadily as it sounds the horn once more, a reminder that if the workers didn't get on quickly, they'd be left behind today with no chance to earn the sesterces they all need, that keep them all going onwards. It wasn't like there was anything else to wait for. What was going to happen? Were they going to be reaped for the Hunger Games?

Her legs move faster and her friends cheer as she vaults herself onto the back of the long truck, moving to a bench at the side so that others climbing on won't be tripped up by her legs. And then she smiles, clutching her bag tightly as the truck roars to life, climbing out of this tent city and onto the road to the factories.

It may be another long day, one filled with failures and successes alike, but none of it matters when she can feel the wind on her face and the sun in her eyes.

 **A/N: Wow, JAJ took a while to come back with another chapter! Sorry about that, life's been busy and school really took up a lot of my time. But, I'm back and ready to go with more chapters! Wish me luck :))**

 **The lucky submitter of Gadget was willemsbakedgoods, and I hope I did your tribute justice! She's going to be a fun one, and it's always nice to have a few younger tributes to spice it up.**

 **In other news, the official list for Caveat Lector is on my profile! Check it out! I'll see you soon with another chapter, and have a great day! Until then, TheAmazingJAJ**


	5. Ellington Lockwood: Trampoline

**Ellington Lockwood, 18**  
 **District Ten Female**

She's been having strange dreams lately.

Yet again, does she ever not?

But the voices from her dreams still linger in the back of her mind as she carts the tray of delicate raspberry tarts around the path. The sun is out today, and if it had a face, she'd describe its rays as smiling down on the Psychiatric Hospital. Some cruel souls in other parts of Ten would say that the hospital doesn't make the patients housed here any better suited to living in what they deem the real world, that they're just as broken as the day the hospital was built, but she doesn't think so.

Even the broken look brighter under the sun.

But putting her musings aside, it is a beautiful day here at the hospital. The garden that the staff bring the patients out into, just behind the hospital and away from any nosy people wanting to get a look inside, sprawls over an acre of beautiful bushes and flowers. In the main meadow, an area cleared for those who are claustrophobic and others who prefer being around other people, staff members have set out tables for the patients to sit at, and the cooks have prepared a spring banquet, with tarts and baked goods and small sandwiches for them all to eat, complete with plastic forks and knives to properly eat their meal.

"Over here with the tarts!" cries Martha, a tall blonde who is setting down plates while waving at Elli to get her over to the table on the far right. "The other tables have tarts already, but this set can fit in right by the pickles, if you don't mind walking a little further."

Elli smiles and sets the tarts down next to the pickles and a tray of ham sandwiches, Martha dusting the tarts with icing sugar before stepping away from the table, a proud smile on her face. "If they don't like this, I don't know what will. One of my best rounds of tarts. Michael and Louisa will be disappointed that they weren't able to try them, but they aren't here to know, are they?"

Elli laughs. The meal certainly looks lovely, with all of the different spreads of cheese and crackers and sauces fitting next to the sandwiches, tarts, and such. The residents of the hospital will certainly be pleased to see something as stunning as this for them to dine at.

Even the smallest things, like putting flowers at every table in tiny paper vases, helps everyone to smile more. It makes them feel more human.

It's hopeful.

Elli walks past the tables and helps a younger girl, just around eighteen, to get to her feet from the ground and take a seat at the table. "How are you doing, Matilda?"

Matilda smiles with anxious eyes, biting her lip as she takes a seat. "It looks really nice today. I'm glad that you decided to put it in the schedule instead of the normal lunch that we have at these hours."

Elli laughs, then starts to walk to another table. "I'm glad too."

She helps the next few patients to sit down, most of them smiling gently and then starting to eat. The more violent patients are in another part of the hospital with stronger and more capable staff members, so Elli never feels uncomfortable among them all. It's nice to chat with them, to hope for the future with the younger ones who wish that they could be able to adjust to society again and go into the real world - and cheer for the ones who manage to do so, waving proudly as they hug their family and walk away from the hospital. Some look back wistfully, but most march forward proudly, their chests puffed up as they walk away from the hospital.

They don't want to look back.

An older man is already seated in the chair next to her when Elli finally brings back the last patient from the garden that she has under her care and takes a seat, smiling warmly when Elli sits down. "How are you doing, Elli?"

"I'm doing well, Whit!" Elli grins for him, a wide, genuine grin that shows her teeth before she reaches for a sandwich and begins to nibble away. "Are you up for another round of chess? I reckon I have a bit of a shot if you go easy on me."

Whit smirks, taking a sip of water before grabbing the chess set he carried into the garden with him. "White or black?"

"I'll be black!" Elli takes her pieces and sets them up neatly, her dark, slim fingers nimbly putting each one in place. "I might as well give you a chance in this game, after all. Am I right?"

Whit chuckles, his pieces set up as well. "I suppose so. You wouldn't want to beat an old man like me _too_ badly."

They begin to play, paying no attention to the woman who hums loudly and off tune as she arranges her food into neat little pyramids, or a man who bursts into tears and has to be taken away into another part of the garden when he stubs his toe while trying to stand up from his chair. Elli tries to play a defensive game, setting up her pieces in a way that ensures that Whit will have to sacrifice valuable pieces in order to catch her king, but Whit is cunning, playing an aggressive game with his knights that slowly take her pawns and rooks. She's soon left with a handful of pieces, only having captured Whit's rook, both of his bishops, and three pawns.  
Whit has a dark scowl painted on his face as she takes his knight with triumph, making a hacking sound in his throat before moving his queen into the battlefield. Elli begins to move her bishop to take the queen, then notes that moving her bishop will allow Whit to take her own queen. She instead moves it back to protect the queen, and Whit moves in with a pawn on the other side of the board and converts it into a queen, having reached the end.

And after that move, Elli only has a few moves before she's forced to surrender. She tips her king in defeat, surrounded by Whit's pieces as she takes a bite of the raspberry tart. The voices whisper angrily to her, taunting her over the loss, but she pays them no mind. "Great game!"

"It was a horrible one," Whit frowns. "I'm more the fool for letting you get my knight. I… I need to go sit down."

Elli is about to protest, noting the fact that Whit is already seated, but then she nods in understanding. He's in one of his dark moods again. "I'll come with you."

Whit gives a sigh, rising from the table and walking slowly to the edge of the garden. He sits down near a pruned hedge, staring into the dark green leaves with a tired frown on his face. Elli sits next to him, holding his hand as he buries his face in his knees and tries to ignore the world.

After all, he'd do the same for her.

 **A/N: Well, well, well, guess who's back again?**

 **And this time it's for real - you might have seen my explanation in my other SYOTs, but I got SWAMPED by school and the summer being so busy that I couldn't do anything - so instead, I put my work into finishing all of the intros for this story before updating again. And yep, I've finished them all, FINALLY.**

 **I hope that I haven't worried anyone too much about disappearing! I've been lurking on the site during the past year and not putting much out, but you might have seen me updating my profile, lurking on other stories, and leaving nonsensical reviews. I haven't gone anywhere, and I am excited to share my work with you all. After all, I have over 12K words stockpiled for this story, and I'm putting them to good use.**

 **Anyways, you'll see this update every week or so with the next chapter. I'm spacing them out so I don't make the same mistake as last time, but I'm going to get them all out at a reasonable pace. Y'all deserve some content for sticking around for so long - and to the five or six of you who are still around, I thank you very much. You're the reason I keep updating.**

 **Enjoy the chapter. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ.**


	6. Lindor MacAvoy: Glorious

**Lindor MacAvoy, 18  
District One Female**

She tackles her training partner with a wild laugh and listens to his body hitting the training mat, the boy kicking violently in an attempt to get out of her chokehold.

He doesn't kick again after she tightens her grip on his neck.

When her opponent waves his hands in the air and collapses in defeat, Frosty rises from the training mat. She smiles, the rest of the teens applauding her as she leaves the gasping boy behind. There's no point in helping him up. After all, there's a few teens rushing to help him stand up and get him to the side of the gym, where he can catch his breath and see how bruised his neck is. But she gives him a smile and he grins back, good-natured over his loss.

After all, not many can beat her on her worst days.

And this is one of her best.

Ben Quick, One's only victor, gives a slow clap to Frosty, nodding in acknowledgement before turning to the others. "Fletcher, Silver, on the mat. Frosty, Sam, Alfonse, I want you to start working on the knives again. Frosty, teach them how to hold it properly and make sure that they don't throw the wrong way. You know what you're doing."

Frosty gives a small smile, hurrying to catch up to the younger boys. Ben doesn't give many compliments out to others, especially those training under his watch. When you do get one, you remember it. And it gives her the spurt of energy she needs to help the boys to properly grip the knife - Sam proves to have a natural arm for throwing, while Alfonse, a bulkier teen who's better suited to a sword, has trouble landing the knife in the target just the right way.

"Try stepping forward with your right foot just before you throw, that way you won't keep getting caught off guard and throwing it in the wrong place like you've done the last six throws," she advises the young boy. He gives a scowl to the knife before stepping forward, his long bangs getting in his eyes before he blows them back into place. And then he throws, giving a little flick with his wrist that she's spent twenty minutes teaching him how to do. And this time, the knife lands, sticking itself into the side of the target. Alfonse gives a small cry of delight, throwing his hands into the air.

"Thank you, Frosty! Do you think I could do it again?"

"Of course!" she laughs, pushing him back into his stance and handing him a knife. "You aren't allowed to leave until you hit that target nine more times, you hear me? Now Sam, I appreciate the fact that you're trying to throw the knife hard enough so that you get it stuck in the wall, but that's a stupid idea when we actually have to get the knife back out. Throw it with a little less force, and keep aiming for the centre just like you've been doing so."

And with that, she steps away, another trainee coming to watch the younger boys practice their knife-throwing skills. Ben nods to her as she moves towards the door, grabbing her sweater and bag. She waves to the other trainees, giving another grin to them all. "Love you all, but I've got to get back to the set. Have fun, and don't kill each other!"

She darts down the road before the others have a chance to say goodbye, her feet moving quickly and nimbly across the path. She loves to run, but it doesn't give her the rush of adrenaline that she craves so. Still, she can push herself until the edges of her vision go dark and she feels like she's going to faint, and then she feels like she's pushed every last morsel of energy out of her body.

Sometimes, there's nothing more satisfying than feeling absolutely spent.

But she can't do that today. After all, she's got to get back to the movie set where she's working as a stunt double for one of the Capitol's upcoming movies - One's always been a picturesque place for the Capitol to shoot dramas, and they like to hire locals so that they don't have to transport many Capitolites to the districts.

After all, they might not like what they see when they finally get here.

One of the directors straightens his cap and waves at her when she walks into the tent, waving for one of the actors to come over. "This is Frosty, the girl from the Ice Queen movies. She's the one who jumped out of the Peacekeeper truck and off of the bridge before it shattered, if you remember that scene?"

"How could I forget?" the woman laughs. She has bright red hair that seems to shine from every angle, the kind of hair Frosty often wished she had. "I'm excited to work with you, Frosty!"

"Same!" Frosty grasps the woman's hand and shakes firmly, noting that they're roughly the same build. "So, we're shooting the fall scene today?"

"Yep, you'll be falling out of the glass window we have set up in the skyscraper set and into the safety net below. CGI will take care of the rest." The director tosses a red wig to Frosty and grins, watching her pull it over her black hair, attempting to tame the curls enough to make the wig look normal.

"Sounds good!" she says once she manages to get the wig on properly, looking at the clothes on the table. "Should I go change?"

The director nods yes and she grabs the tight fitting clothes, tugging them on in the next tent over and walking to the fake skyscraper they have set up. It's only a few floors, and most of it is scaffolding and wooden sets that give the illusion of an actual skyscraper - the scenes needed in a skyscraper are shot in a nearby building. It's a quick climb to the top of the stairs where the scene is set out, with a small patch of the floor replicating the other building exactly, up to the fragile glass that makes up the window she'll be falling out of. After the cameras are set up and the lights are positioned in a way the camera men are pleased with, she steps up to the window, where a brawny man in a business suit is ready to push. When the man looks worried as she prepares to fall, she giggles in reassurance. "It's just like gymnastics. I'll be alright if I don't land awkwardly."

The man nods, and she takes a deep breath before one of the men behind the scene yell to begin. Then the man in the business suit yells a phrase she'll forget in five minutes, and shoves her into the window. The glass shatters even more quickly than she expects, and she gives a scream as she falls.

And then she hits the net, and she lies there for a moment as workers rush around her and help lower her to the ground. It's the best feeling, to just fly through the air and feel like she'll never stop until she hits the net and everything's alright.

It's glorious.

 **A/N: Hey all! We're here with lovely intro five, with only eight more to go before we get to the Capitol! I'm glad to introduce you to Frosty, who will refuse to be called Lindor no matter what and there's no explaining it. You just gotta accept it.**

 **Glad to have you all here still! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm excited to bring you intro number six on the 10th of March. Get ready!**

 **Enjoy the chapter. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	7. Dimitri Muller: King's Dead

**Dimitri Muller, 16  
** **District Two Male**

He watches the other guys spar around playfully as they wait for their turn in the ring, two boys already fighting their hearts out in the ring. One punches the other right in the chin, blood spurting out from the second boy's mouth before he tackles the other boy and lets his fists rain down on him, not stopping until the first boy stops moving.

It's finally Trials Week.

He looks down at the harness attached to his belt, moving his arms from side to side to stretch before tugging at his black and red collared-shirt. Only eleven other boys in the Academy have red shirts - they're the other eleven fighting for the spot of Two's male volunteer. He doesn't understand why they would want to play with the fate of the gods by volunteering, or why he was picked to do the same. Why would you play with fate itself, when you should let it be?

He remembers the first time he remembers hearing of the Hunger Games - his parents were fortunate enough to receive tickets to the Gala celebrating Two's second victor, Natalia Haines. Only later he had been told that his father had done a few illicit favours for the Mayor, and was returned the favour through the tickets and a promotion.

Dimitri, only seven years old and with a head full of reddish-brown hair, had walked through the short, labyrinthic streets of his town and took a rickety bus to the capital city of District Two. There, they had entered the gorgeous Hall of Justice, which had been cleaned enough for Dimitri to see his reflection on the floor as he walked inside. The marble floors made his shoes echo throughout the halls, and Dimitri's mother had pulled him out of his shock and to their table - only a few seats away from Two's newest victor.

He doesn't remember much from the conversation, but he does remember Natalia telling him about 'honourable combat' and 'glorious trials' that had led to her victory. As he walked to the bus stop with a signed picture of Natalia in his hand, a clear mental image formed in his mind - gods up in the skies of Panem, watching over the citizens of Panem and testing the finest with whatever Natalia had won - the Hunger Games?

He hung Natalia's picture up on the side of his bedroom wall so he could brag to his friends that he had met a celebrity, and went to bed thinking of the gods above his head.

As he got older, he saw more of these Hunger Games, and concluded that they _must_ be tests from whatever gods watched over Panem to punish them for the Dark Days. How else would you justify the violence, the deaths in the Games? Surely they must mean _something_ , anything at all. They must. They had to.

He decided that the gods chose specific teenagers from the crowd to be reaped for the Games, that the hands of the escorts were guided to make the right pick for the Games. That was why he was so caught off guard when he saw his first volunteer, a tall boy with dark eyes and an angry face who marched up the steps of the stage and saluted to the crowd. Why would he stop the choice of the gods from entering what was supposed to be their challenge? Why was this insolent teenager allowed to enter on a whim? It was fate that was supposed to choose tributes for the Games, not teens from the crowd. When the boy died to a wiry girl from one of the rural districts, Dimitri nodded in grim satisfaction. At least the gods had allowed justice to commence the way it should.

No, volunteering was a bad decision. Dimitri was only here because it made his family money - a recent program introduced by the heads of District Two allowed the highest-ranking cadets from Two's Academy to earn a monthly pension from the government. It wasn't much, but it was enough to help support his family. Perhaps it went against the standards he should hold himself up to, but at least he won't attempt to volunteer.

When he tried to explain that to his teachers in the Academy, they had laughed in his face and told him to go work in the kitchen on dish duty once more. Not many people believed what he said, and most of those who did were too young and too naive to matter. Dimitri liked to keep things to himself. It was better that way, so he wouldn't interrupt the status quo of the Academy. Perhaps they were angering the gods through their will to train tributes for the Games, but at least they wouldn't force him. Although he had the black and red shirt on, it was merely a formality. He and the victors had an understanding that unless he was reaped directly, he wouldn't enter the Hunger Games.

"Muller, you're up!" one of the instructors bark. She points to the rock wall, where another boy was preparing by rubbing his hands in chalk dust and stretching. "You're doing The Wall today."

"I'd be delighted!" Dimitri replies. He stretches as well and makes his way through the crowd, ignoring the younger children who stopped and stared at him. A few cadets had spread the rumour that Dimitri was crazy, a loon who was here because his parents didn't want him in an asylum, but he had stopped them from continuing it after beating them against the back wall of the school. Two of them admitted themselves to the infirmary, and the other cadets stopped speaking about Dimitri. At least in public, of course.

"I can't wait to beat a candidate," the other boy laughs as he prepares to ascend The Wall. "I haven't lost one of these matches yet, Muller. I'd like to see someone keep up with me."

"I sure will," Dimitri mutters, then launches himself up the wall as an instructor rings the bell. He heads up the right side of the rock face, towards a blunted knife that he likes to use in these fights. Then, he starts to muscle his way towards the other tribute. He's made a good pick, a quarterstaff that will knock him off of the wall if he isn't careful, but Dimitri can defeat him. He just has to wait until they make a mistake.

And the boy does when his left foot slips, causing him to stop in his path. It gives Dimitri the chance to approach him with the knife and stab at his face. It leaves a red mark of paint and just a bit of blood before Dimitri kicks the boy's other foot off of the wall, and Dimitri's opponent lets go of the wall.

"We have a winner!" Dimitri laughs as he rappels down the wall, walking to shake the other boy's hand. "Good game there. I'll have to be more careful next time, you have an eye for climbing and know how to hold a weapon. Work on your balance, and you'll beat me."

"Thank… you?" The boy appears puzzled, and Dimitri smiles again before disappearing into the crowd.

The Academy might not understand him, but at least they respect him.

That's all he wants.

 **Another intro! I'm glad to bring you this one, because I really enjoy Dimitri and think that he's going to be a lot of fun. How do y'all like him?**

 **And now, we only have seven more intros before the Capitol! Very very exciting, especially since I've written my way into the arena. Yes, you should be very frightened and scared for your children.**

 **You'll be getting the next intro on March 14th, so that's only a few days away! I won't make you wait as long this time :D**

 **Enjoy! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	8. Lumara Barrett: Humble

**Lumara Barrett, 15  
** **District Four Female**

Soon the light dawn will rise over the mountains of District Four, the warm sun waking up this little town on the sands that blur the border between the land and the sea. It will even reach the river that she's swimming through, this river that her father built a dock on and allowed Lumara to swim in every morning.

This part of the river that feeds into the ocean of Four was a birthday present for Lumara three years ago, one of the best ones that he has gotten her. She doesn't like swimming with other people, or being stared at by strangers on the beach as she practices her strokes. There's nothing wrong with being with other people, but Lumara likes swimming alone. Some may call it dangerous, but they don't know how much she's swum or how water flows through the veins of everyone from Four. It's an easy decision to come down here at five in the morning and swim as far as she can before the dawn wakes up her world and she has to go back home.

When she sees the first rays of light peek over the mountainside, she dives to the bottom of the river, grabbing a handful of sand to prove to herself that she can touch the bottom, before coming back up for air. Lumara always swims upstream before she turns back around to her home so that it's easier for her to get back. Mom and Dad don't like it when she dawdles down by the shore before breakfast.

When she reaches the dock and hauls herself onto the polished surface, the face of her mother appears above her head. "I have a towel for you, Luma."

"Thanks, Mom." Lumara takes the towel and rubs herself dry while her mother fusses about the state of Lumara's hair. Lumara has short, dark hair that just barely reaches her shoulders, something that her mother worries over continuously. She _tries_ to keep it straight and glossy, but more often than not it ends up in tangles after her swim and she has to comb it again before she gets ready for school. "Will you be driving me, or do I get to walk today?"

"You'll drive there with your father, as always."

"Oh." Lumara stands up and puts on a pair of sneakers she left at the end of the dock. "I'll run home and eat before getting ready for school, then."

"I'll be leaving soon. Have a wonderful day, honey!" Lumara's mother pecks her on the forehead and musses her hair, something that Lumara hates but is able to stand for her mother.

"Yeah, see you, Mom." Lumara begins the run back home and enters the large french doors at the back of the house. Their kitchen is on the first floor, with the living spaces on the second floor and their bedrooms on the third floor. She could have taken the top floor as her personal space, but Lumara prefers to stay near her parents. It's silly, but she feels safer with them.

It feels more normal.

She eats a small breakfast before heading out to their car, made up of poached eggs, toast with peach jam, and smoked salmon that had been caught by fishermen in Four up to the northern part of the district. She's always loved salmon, and her parents always buy a new type of jam when they send out someone to go shopping for the weekend. As a result, Lumara has had jams from all over Panem, from District Seven's raspberry jam to District Twelve's wild strawberry jam. She's never decided which of the flavours she likes best. Each has such an interesting taste and feels too different to compare.

She'd have to ask someone else for their own opinion to help her decide. And to her surprise, most of the other students at her school have not even tasted jam, let alone strawberry jam from Twelve. Most of her attempts to question the other students at her school have led to her either scoffing at them for not trying something that they should experience, or them getting angry at her "for assuming I have enough money to buy myself food for my siblings, let alone jam from clear-across Panem!", as one girl had yelled at her.

And so Lumara retreated with every question, having made up her mind that they all had no taste. After all, they would have had the same experiences as Lumara, the same upbringing, the same options at the store, the same homes, the same _everything_.

Why wouldn't they live like her?

She'll have to ask her friend, Della, on what she thinks. Della's one of the smartest girls in a school filled with smart people, and together she and Lumara have formed a duo that can solve any of the problems that their tech teachers throw at them.

Her mother had worried at first about what could happen to Lumara if she went to the fancy, elite tech school that's over half an hour away from their home, even when her father drives faster than the speed limit, but that was before a nasty episode at the public school where Lumara had attended when she was younger led to Lumara getting a bloody nose and a bruised eye. Her adversary was left with deep cuts in her arm from Lumara scratching her, and after her mother hastily paid for the medical bills of the other student Lumara had been withdrawn and placed in the tech school.

"Lumara, hurry up! We're leaving in a few minutes!" her father yells from outside of the home, his voice drifting up through the open windows in the kitchen and to where Lumara is sitting with a book and her bag.

Lumara grabs her bag and hurries downstairs. "Coming, Dad!" She's fast and nimble, and slides into the back seat before her father starts the car and they're away, driving out onto the dusty roads of Four. She's never understood why they aren't paved, but her father drives slowly so that he doesn't damage the tires.

He once told her that their vehicle was one of only seven in District Four, and she had laughed in his face. How else would everyone else get around? Would they walk? Swim? Bike? No, people must live like her, from their clothes to the cars that her father claims don't exist. Her mother and father have always guarded her from meeting many other people, and she's never seen anyone in truly desperate conditions. So she knows that therefore, no one must be in the conditions that some of her classmates yell at her about before stomping off. They're just exaggerating.

After all, she'd feel terribly guilty if they didn't at least live in comfortable homes with comfortable jobs. If they were forced to do those jobs down at the harbours of Four, she'd have to do the same for it to be equal. Yes, they're all equal, but some people choose to do the gritty work. Maybe it pays more.

Right?

 **Another intro, another day! What do y'all think of Lumara? Excited to see more of her? Annoyed by her? What are your exciting thoughts?**

 **I hope you're all doing well, and wish you the best of health. Your next intro will arrive sometime next week, so prepare for that! :D**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	9. Gilbert Dongalls: Fallen

**Gilbert Dongalls, 15  
** **District Six Male**

He glares at the empty beer bottle that's been left in the hallway by his father - it's not broken, but there's a crack running up the side of the brown bottle from being thrown onto the floor after the contents inside were empty. He hates the look of the bottle, he hates the alcohol, he hates everything that took his father away from him and killed his brother last year.

His hand grabs the bottle and smashes it against the side of the wall, the shards ricocheting through the bedroom hallway and onto the carpet. One flies past his arm and opens up a long, thin red line of blood before falling onto the floor, and Gilbert instinctively throws up his hands over his face to make sure it doesn't get in his eyes. When the glass settles, he looks at the mess of glass all over the shag carpet that Akira tries but fails to keep clean for the family.

Then he goes to the closet, gets a used and worn broom, then starts to sweep up the mess.

By the time he has all of the glass in the dustpan - he's checked around the carpet to make sure that all of the glass is gone. Gilbert's nothing but careful when it comes to this sort of thing - the front door opens and Akira walks in with a bag of groceries. She waves to Gilbert and places the bag on the counter. "We're having chicken tonight! The store had a discount that we could afford! Chicken, Gilbert! Are you cleaning up after Dad again?"

"Something like that." Gilbert dumps the glass into the garbage can before she has a chance to question him, then goes to help put the groceries away. "How was work?"

Akira shakes her head while taking a carton of eggs and putting it into their fridge. The light doesn't turn on anymore when she opens the door, so she squints at the contents of the fridge in the fading light of the evening before plopping the carton next what looks like a bottle of milk. "Work was work. We're always packaging things up and sending it to other districts, so at least there's some variety in the job. But the factory is starting to lay off a few employees as they're transitioning to City 2, so it's going to only get harder to keep working there. At least I have the janitorial job with the school, I can keep cleaning there when their official janitor has a day off and keep us fed. Dad..."

"Is still Dad." Gilbert finishes the thought for them both. "So, will we eat now and settle down for the rest of the night? I have a bit of homework left to finish."

"You don't _ever_ do your homework." Akira looks over at Gilbert, a suspicious look forming on her face before she lights up. "Oh! It's tonight! You have to get your therapist in, uh," Akira checks her watch, the scuffed glass showing them both that it's half past six. "Thirty minutes - hurry up! We have to hurry if we're going to make it there on time!"

Thirty minutes later, Akira opens the door for Gilbert and they walk into the office of the therapist. "Remember, just be honest. The therapist had a degree and everything, Gil, he can help you. Maybe he'll have some new strategy for you today. We can hope, right?"

Gilbert glances down at his arms. "I guess."

The therapist, a young-ish man in his thirties, opens the door and gives Gil a big grin. "I'm ready when you are!"

"Alright." Gil tries to not slump his shoulders too much as he walks into the room and away from the eyes of Akira. She looks more tired than she used to be.

"Take a seat in whatever you want. Would you like a stress ball again?" Gil takes his pick of the comfortable chairs to sit in, and the therapist holds out a tray of brightly coloured balls. "Whatever one you want."

Gil picks an orange one, kneading it with his palms as the therapist flips to a new page in his notepad. "Thanks, Mr. Seymour."

"You can always call me Marshall if you want to," the therapist offers. They both know that Gil will continue to call Marshall the same way. "Now, has anything happened in the past few days?"

"Not really," Gil mutters. He focuses on squishing the stress ball into as small of an object as he can, grunting with efforts as he squeezes his hands together. "My sister has been more stressed lately about work, and Dad still doesn't have a job. It doesn't stop him from drinking though. He leaves glass bottles in the hallways for Akira and I to pick up when he finally passes out in his room, just like how - how -"

"How?" Marshall asks gently, waiting for Gil to open up.

"Like how, you know..." Gil flushes. "I don't want to talk about it like last time." A few weeks ago, Marshall had offered to watch some of the parade from the Games last year and Gil couldn't, he _wouldn't_ watch it with him. It's so hard now to even think of Tony, think of all of the things that Gil could have said to him to mend their relationship but didn't.

When Tony left, they were all broken.

No, he doesn't want to think about it.

"And that's alright," Marshall asks. "Have you had any more thoughts when you're alone?" Gil doesn't like to talk about the scars on his arm, but it's the reason that Akira got a fourth job to save up for therapy twice a week. When she had found him in his bedroom with the broken piece of glass and the bloody -

No, he doesn't want to think about that either.

"Not really. I guess it comes up every once in a while, but I try to ignore it."

"I'm going to let you bring a few stress balls home today. Whenever you're feeling stressed or overwhelmed about any situation, just take one out and fiddle around with it. I do it myself when I'm at home - when your hands are idle, it's hard to focus on things that you need to get done. How many would you like?" Marshall asks, and Gil takes three. The rest of the session passes quickly, almost too quickly for Gil's tastes, and he sighs when it's time to head home. He might try to avoid it, but these talks are the only time when he really _does_ want to talk about things.

"Thanks, Mr. Seymour. I'll see you on Friday." Marshall smiles and waves as Gil closes the door, and Akira looks up from the chair in the waiting room that she's been sitting in over the half-hour. She looks like she's been sleeping.

"Are we ready to go?" Akira asks, yawning as she rises from the chair and grabs her bag. "I put the chicken on a low temperature at home, so it'll be ready just in time."

"Yeah," Gil says. He looks towards the street, back to the house that's littered with broken beer bottles and memories of their brother. Back to the home where he tries not to cry whenever he passes Tony's room.

Back to where he and Akira can remember that even though it feels like they've lost everything, they're still a family.

Yeah, he _would_ like to go home.

 **Another intro! Vr, I hope this is suitable for your wishes for Gil - he'll be v fun in the arena, imo. We'll see how he does!**

 **Thoughts? Feelings? Any excitement that we're getting closer to finishing our intros? I'm excited to see what you all think of the Capitol - we'll get there sooner than you think!**

 **I'll see you all soon with the next intro. Enjoy.** **Until then, TheAmazingJAJ**


	10. Lanson Cartwright: Feels Like Summer

**Lanson Cartwright, 18  
** **District Twelve Male**

It's a cold morning the day of the Reapings in Twelve - not that it would have affected how many people were out in the morning, the district was tense enough as it was with the thought of another reapings - but Lanson is surprised to see frost dancing up the side of his window as he slips on a pair of shoes and walks to the door. It doesn't get this cold in Twelve in the spring, the temperature is always warm enough to let wildflowers bloom in the small meadow to the edge of the district as the town prepares for summer.

At least, it usually doesn't get this cold. Not this year.

He grabs his best coat for good measure, a mosaic of green and brown patches that his mother has faithfully stitched to the side of the coat. It's made of thin material, but it's better than nothing on a day like this. But he knows that he's luckier than others. Some teens in his class sell their jackets in the spring to get another plate of food onto the table.

"Will today be the day to say goodbye to this place?" he asks himself. Sure, speaking to himself is weird, but no one cares on a day like today. People have been jumping at the sight of their own shadow for the past month. And no one ever minds if someone has odd tendencies in District Twelve - all you have to do to stay hidden in the crowd is get your work done quietly and not speak up against the authorities.

It's simple enough. Some of his classmates laugh at him for being anxious at times like these and how Lanson overreacts to whatever's worrying him that day in school, but it doesn't matter in the long run. What District Twelve focuses on, first and foremost, is survival. Prejudice is merely a runner-up.

His parents are still eating the rest of their lunch, but Lanson ate early and is ready to head to the square. He always likes to get in before the rush - there's no use in getting caught in the crowd and wasting time standing to get checked in when he can get in early, linger in the square, and be ready for the Reapings. He doesn't mind the long time it takes to get all of District Twelve into the small square.

After all, it helps him find the best place to not be noticed by the cameras.

As he walks into town and past the merchant shops, all closed up for the Reapings, his friends appear on the street and wave at Lanson. He scrambles to catch up to them both, and they fall into an easy pace to the square.

"Do you think that we'll have a new escort this year, or if it'll be the same one as last year?" Joan asks, grinning at the two boys walking by her side. "I'm hoping for the one from last year who decided that it would be a good idea to come in that wig. How much glue do you think that they have to use to make sure that it sticks upon their head? It can't be their natural hair, can they?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if we have Arbor again this year," Merrill says quietly. Despite being one of the few merchant kids who bother to interact with kids from the Seam, all blond hair and pale skin, he's quiet enough to blend in with any crowd. Whenever he does decide to speak up, most look up in surprise. They're not used to hearing Merrill talk when he isn't spoken to. "Although whatever coal he managed to smear all over that suit so he could 'match the district' might have choked up his lungs enough to net us a new escort."

Lanson snickers. "I'm guessing that we're going to have Arbour again. It's not like he's done anything wrong enough to get kicked out the position, right? And District Twelve did well last year, with the two making it to the final ten."

They all pause, remembering the tributes from last year. Sure, Moon had never been the most stable, but she was from their district and that was enough to garner their respect. And Bernard?

He was just a little kid, someone who wanted to come home and have a chance to have a childhood. He died with two tributes standing between him and that dream.

After passing by another street of shops closed up and the homes above them bustling with parents helping the youngest in their families to dress up for the Reapings, the three reach the town square and get into the line for checking in. It isn't long, with only three or four people getting their blood sampled and walking into the square before it's Lanson's turn. He holds his arm out, grimaces at the sting, and then walks to the back of the square. The part where the eighteen-year-olds is marked out in chalk, and he finds a spot in the left to stand in as more start to flow into the square.

As Merrill and Jean get checked in and find their own spots to stand, the square gets louder with the hum of families standing in line before filing into the square. Lanson enjoys watching the rest of his district find their own places. There's something fascinating about watching others, eavesdropping on conversations and snatching tidbits of information about lives that aren't his own. It's a strange feeling, but a good one.

Then he adjusts his position, finding a spot behind a tall merchant boy to wait until the reapings begin. There, now he won't be seen by any cameras.

The pre-ceremony passes quickly. Lanson pretends not to yawn when the short film explaining why the districts deserved to be put in the Hunger Games began, then adjusts his patchwork coat to lie on his shoulders as the escort - Arbor again, this time in some green suit that looks like the withered trees that grow under the coal dust of District Twelve - reaches his hand into the girl's bowl.

After a merchant girl is reaped and reacts poorly, scratching at the hand of the mayor and stepping on the escort's foot before two peacekeepers grab her arms and haul her over to the right of the stage. Merrill, standing next to Lanson, taps his shoulder, but Lanson ignores him. He's listening to Arbor clumsily attempt to crack a joke in light of the fact that he's bringing these kids back to the Capitol to play in the Hunger Games, and he wants to hear who'll be going to the Capitol this year.

Only a few more seconds, and Lanson will be safe from the Hunger Games for the rest of his life. It feels good.

Yes, it feels good to be free indeed.

 **Lanson's worldview will be rudely interrupted by Twelve's escort in ten... nine... eight...**

 **Another intro! Hurrah! I'm still making my way through this story - I've written myself all the way to the final four chapters of the story by now because I am obsessed with stockpiling - and I have a lot in store for you guys! For now, however, I hope you're pleased with our ninth intro. Four more to go!**

 **How was Lanson? Any interesting observations? Anything you want to say? Do you merely want to lurk and read? I'm good with anything y'all do because even just reading is amazing, but I hope you enjoyed this! I'm excited to get to the Capitol soon :D**

 **Enjoy. Until our tenth intro, TheAmazingJAJ**


	11. Bayleigh Mountainson: Material Girl

**Bayleigh Mountainson, 12  
** **District Ten Female**

She's standing in the square and thinking about what she'll have for dinner with her family when she hears the silly escort with a simper in their voice as they call out the name "Bayleigh Mountainson!" and then everything seems to pause because no, why would the escort call Bayleigh Mountainson?

That's _her_.

When a peacekeeper - that's what her parents called the funny men in the white uniforms and the black visors that must make the sun shine on their face - makes his way through the crowd to collect her, Bayleigh darts to the stage. She's not going to be one of the people who just stand in the crowd when they have to go up the stage, she's not going to cry up on the stage. She doesn't know why most of the girls who are picked to go cry when they have to leave the district, but she won't be one of them. She's not going to make an embarrassment of herself.

So she marches up to the stage, climbing the stairs quickly and trying to smile for the escort. The woman - it's a new one this time, with blindingly-white skin and a violet suit that just isn't very good looking - gives a huge smile back and begins to speak into the microphone once more. "And that's our female tribute! Bayleigh Mountainson! May I have a round of applause for our lovely tribute?"

Instead of a round of applause, the sounds of angry murmurs spread throughout the square before a scream cuts the people off. In the back, Bayleigh can see some woman screaming to bring back her darling and pick someone else to die - is that her mother? No, she's never seen Mother with something other than a kind, calm smile on her face. It must be someone else.

But no, that is Tnuah Mountainson who is screaming her lungs out in the crowd. Peacekeepers come to stop her from yelling, but it's only when Marcus Mountainson puts a hand on her shoulder that Tnuah stops.

Bayleigh feels like she can't move. Her mother had told her the other day that there was nothing to worry about, that she would be safe from whatever would be at the reapings.

What does Bayleigh have to worry about that's made her mother hysterical? She doesn't know.

A part of her doesn't want to find out.

The escort calls out the name of the male tribute, an older boy named Cody Ridges who glances at Bayleigh apologetically. Why does he look like he's sorry that she's here? Her parents have guarded Bayleigh from whatever happens at the reapings, but she's always noticed that the district is somber or angered whenever a young boy or girl is chosen to head to the Capitol. She sees them whispering to one another when she heads back to her own home, and then nothing is made up of it. Her parents don't let her watch the television while they crowd around it in their own bedroom, and then half a year later she sees some strange boy or girl tour District Ten and is told to clap for them by her parents.

Last year it was a girl from District Six who came to the district. She looked sad as she walked onto the stage and delivered a little speech about the tributes from District Ten that year, a girl named Carol, and a… Mark? Bayleigh can't remember the second name, and her parents never talked about it.

If she doesn't come back like the girl from Six, will the person who does speak about her?

When the peacekeepers come to escort Bayleigh and Cody off of the stage, she pushes past them and walks as stiffly as she can. She holds her head high, enough that Cody gives her a bemused look before straightening his shoulders as well. The two walk into the Justice Building, and Bayleigh continues to walk in the stiff, proper manner that she falls into whenever others are watching her.

"Don't trip," Cody says as they walk across a carpet made up of beautiful fabric. "I don't know how to walk in stilettos like those."

"Oh, these?" Bayleigh scoffs at the high heels that she's used to walking in. "Doesn't every girl learn to walk in high heels when they're like, ten?"

Cody mutters something under his breath about Bayleigh's parents, but she doesn't hear exactly what the boy says before they're taken to different rooms. As she takes one last look at the boy who will be accompanying her to the Capitol, she sees how dirty and used his clothes are. Bayleigh looks down at her own dress, made up of blue fabric that feels nice on her skin. She chose it today for the gorgeous pink flowers printed all over the dress. She's always liked flowers, and if the cameras caught her in the crowd as the girl chosen this year walked up to the stage, she would look lovely.

But no, _she_ was the girl this year who's not supposed to come back.

Bayleigh decides to explore the room that she has to wait in for her parents to arrive, but she only gets to inspect the brown curtains that hang over the windows before her parents arrive at the doors and rush to her. For a moment, they just hang onto each other as Bayleigh cries into her dad's shoulder. Then they all stand up, and Bayleigh's mom brushes off some dust from the blue dress. "We're so, so, so sorry Bayleigh. If we would come with you, we would, but the Capitol doesn't allow family. You'll have to go with Cody and your mentor. Listen to what they tell you, because you're going to have to fight for your life." She's crying again.

"What? Is that what happens there? I'm fighting?" Bayleigh asks. "Is that what happens there? What happens if you lose?"

"You d..." Bayleigh's father pauses. "You don't come back if you lose. Ask to watch the Hunger Games in the train, Bay. You'll understand there. Oh, I feel so _stupid_ now. It's my fault, I should have made sure to let you know of this but I thought I could protect you from it when you were old enough - I didn't want you to be terrified - I just wanted to protect you, Bay - I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"We couldn't have predicted this, Marcus." Bayleigh's mom gives Dad a hug, then embraces Bayleigh. "We're going to have to ask you to forgive us, Bayleigh. We were very foolish and thought we could protect you from this, but we weren't. Protect yourself in the Capitol, and learn everything you can. When the bloodbath happens, run. Can you do that for us?"

"What?" Bayleigh asks, confused. Actually, she's more annoyed than anything. Why were her parents so, she doesn't know, urgent? Couldn't they have told her this before? Now she's angry at them and angry at herself for being scared, and she makes no effort to stop what she says next. "No, I'm not forgiving you. You told me I was mature, that I had nothing to worry about, didn't you? Well, look at us now. Looks like I do have a lot to be worried about. Thanks."

Her mother almost _shudders_ at the tone Bayleigh is using, but her father helps her to her feet. "I suppose, in a way we deserved that. Stay our girl, Bayleigh. We'll do anything we can to get you home."

"Quite the brat, isn't she?" a peacekeeper whispers as the Mountainsons leave the room, and Bayleigh flushes. Is she being a brat? In the end, is she the spoiled brat that all of the kids at school claimed she was?

She's just alone with that thought for the rest of her time in this room that she doesn't want to look at anymore. Alone with just her thoughts to keep her company.

She's afraid.

 **A new chapter! Woohoo!**

 **Goldie, this one's for you :D How does everyone like Bayleigh? She's another fun gal - I hope you all enjoy her, even if she's a bit of a brat. Yes, she has issues, but they're ~fun~ issues.**

 **And that means we're at our tenth intro! Three more to go before we head into the Capitol. We're going to have a lot of fun!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	12. Audra Zimanski: Not Today

**Audra Zimanski, 16  
** **District Five Female**

When she sits down in the goodbye rooms, sighing in relief as the doors close on her and she finally has some time to put her thoughts together and figure out how she'll get out of this mess…

When she remembers how she walked up to the stage, feeling the heat of the nation's eyes on her as she stood next to a small boy, barely a teen, named Nubis Skylar…

When she finds a pillow to hide the knives under, sighing in relief because she hated the fact that one had almost slipped out of her dress as she walked alongside the peacekeepers to the Justice Building and she had to clutch her side to make sure they wouldn't see them…

That's when it finally hits her that she's going into the Hunger Games.

Audra fights back the urge to swear in the goodbye rooms, for she knows how easy it is to hide some bugged device to record her every action for Capitolites to watch and she doesn't want to be seen bemoaning her fate. She's in the Games now, she's been in it ever since their escort drew out the slip from the girl's bowl and called her name. Did the woman even pronounce it correctly? She said it strangely, like the z was an s and as if the k in Zimanski never existed.

Of course, Audra hadn't bothered to correct her. She was too busy trying to keep her head down and not lose her lunch. Sure, she had managed to smile for the cameras just how any decent Capitolite would like her to, but there's something about what the announcement that a girl is going to the Hunger Games does to the stomach.

She looks up at the door, then chides herself for thinking that someone would come to visit. All of her uncles love her, but even they know that visiting Audra in a government building when their names are logged as wanted criminals throughout the district is a bad idea. Perhaps if only one visited they could get away with it, but Audra always assured them that she wouldn't be picked. Even if she was, she wouldn't need to say goodbye. It's not as if she _needs_ them to be here, does she? She's all good on her own, she's been on her own every time she entered a mission or stole yet another piece of information for her uncles.

It would be nice to have someone to talk to, though. She always thought that the hard part of the Hunger Games would be surviving in the wild, using her limited knowledge to find food and fight against desperate teenagers. But for the first time, she's realized that the difficult part is the loneliness.

But she shouldn't think like that now, not when she's beginning the Game of her life. After all, now she has time to prepare herself for the cameras that will greet her just before she gets to the train. Audra smooths her hair into a manageable tangle of brown curls, humming a little tune to calm her racing mind down. When she looks up in the glass, her fingers trace the mess of scars that travel down her face and her body. It's a reminder of a past that she'll never remember, of the deadly current that took away her parents and almost her… almost.

What her uncles - well, not uncles, but she calls all seven of them that anyway - had told her was that they found her wailing in the corner, only a few months old and with burns all over her body while the bodies of her mother and father lay in the corner. They didn't know how Audra's mother had been tangled up in the wire or why her father was lying just a few feet away from Audra, his arms outstretched, but they did know that they had found a little baby girl that they didn't know the name of who needed help. So they took her.

Nile told her that when he had brought her back to the apartment where they were hiding out in that week and talked with the other men, they named her after his aunt.

But Audra bites her own lip and stands up. Now's not the time to dwell on the past, it's time to take action. She can see that the peacekeepers are ready to escort her to the train, and she sure isn't going to be one of the people who has to be dragged all the way to the Capitol. With a wink and a smile, she walks past the guards and in the direction of what she assumes to be the way to the train. The faint sound of jostling and equipment hitting the ground only assures her that she is right.

"It's her! It's her! Get good pictures, quickly!" are the first words she hears as she steps out into the open. But Audra doesn't hesitate - she hardens her face into a mask of stone and walks through the crowd like she wishes she had to the stage. She's untouchable like this. Nothing can hurt her when she puts herself on top of the world.

Still, she's relieved when she steps into the train car, decorated with green and gold upholstery with a gorgeous red carpet under her feet, and closes the door. It's going to be hard to keep a tough persona for the cameras, especially when she knows that it's going to make others keep an eye on her. Perhaps she should tone it down, be the scared girl from Five that most expect her to be. After all, they remember the monster from last year who clawed her way into the final eight. She doesn't want to be seen like that to some eager career pack.

An older woman looks up from a seat in the green-and-gold car, her blue eyes widening at the sight of Audra. "Oh! You're early! Did Skyla bring you in early with Nubis, or did the peacekeepers?"

"I needed to get here early - I'm sorry, ma'am, I really am," says Audra to the only victor of District Five. "Please, Ms. Gould. I need to prepare for the fight of my life."

 **Almost forgot to update today but since I casually remembered that I had an intro to share with y'all (read: almost spat out my water when I realized it was almost 3 pm EST) here we are!**

 **Thoughts on Audra? How will she fare? Any predictions? Only two intros to go!**

 **Enjoy. Until our next intro, TheAmazingJAJ**


	13. Kane Rowan: The Fighter

**Kane Rowan, 16  
** **District Eleven Male**

"So, you're _what_ again?" his mentor asks, twisting his face into a frown. "I'm sorry, it's just hard to understand why you bruise so easily. Are you sure that there isn't anything that can make them go away?"

Kane looks down at the web of bruises that have formed around his face, courtesy of an over-eager peacekeeper who thought that he wasn't moving fast enough and gave him a push forward. He's lucky that he didn't puncture his skin - it wouldn't be great if he managed to bleed out before the Hunger Games even began. "I mean, I can taking clotting-pills or whatever the Capitol would call them, but those are expensive and my mom could only buy a bottle once every year or so. Hemophilia can't really go away, if that makes sense? I don't know how to describe it very well, but when I start to bleed, it's really hard to stop because my body doesn't know how to mend itself."

That's all he really knew - he ended up dropping out of school at an early age because higher-ups started to wonder why he wasn't signing up for shifts in the fields and orchards of District Eleven. After his mother had bribed a few of those higher-ups and reminded them that _Kane's father owned a very successful business that they too could profit off of it they let a merchant's kid off this one time, just this once!_ So Kane had remained home, bruises always flowering over the light-brown hue of his skin.

"I'm sure the Capitol can give you things for those bruises and such - why don't we ask this avox over here?" says Sean, tapping one of the red-clad servants on the shoulder. She nods patiently and listens to the victor explain Kane's predicament, before hurrying away into the train. What could be back there? Was there an entire section of this train just for medical purposes? Kane ponders the question for a minute or so, his mind envisioning some magical machine that can make his blood _right_ for once, before being distracted by the coughing of his district partner.

Chastity Blythius - is that her name? - is another abnormal tribute from District Eleven, one with long locks of blonde hair and pale skin that hasn't managed to tan under Eleven's sun. But it isn't her skin that showcases how Chastity is different than an average citizen of Eleven - it's those coughs that wrack her body. Sean had a mind-melting conversation with her as well a few minutes prior, trying to grasp what in Panem _cystic fibrosis_ was.

Kane didn't find it that hard to grasp. Between coughs, Chastity had told the two that mucus built up in her lungs and she found it difficult to breathe all the time. She managed to explain something else about how her genes had caused her to be some sort of recessive carrier or whatnot, but Kane didn't understand that part as well. She must have had more schooling than him in science.

The servant, no, the _avox_ came back quickly and handed Sean a short note. "Hmm, so they're only allowed to take it in the Capitol?" Sean asked the avox, and she gave a quick nod. "Alright."

The tall, freckled man turned back to his tributes, explaining their circumstances as the reapings began to play on a television behind them. "So you both are allowed to take medication that will help with your various diseases and whatnot, but only in the Capitol. Don't ask me why you're not allowed to take it now, and it should be somewhat obvious why you can't take it in the Hunger Games."

"Alright, that makes sense," Kane says as a tall boy from One takes a look at at a girl that Kane would swear that he's seen on tv somewhere. "And if we make it back from the Games?"

"I suppose they'll give it to you for life, and you'll be able to live in peace." Chastity's eyes light up, then darken as the two tributes remember that the odds that they could win the Games are miniscule. Of course, there's always a chance, but it's small. "So when you get there, I will get you that medication and we can start working out a strategy."

"Do you think that it could work?" Kane asks, taking a careful glance at Sean. "I know that I don't seem like much, but I'm smart. I've managed to make it this far in life because I'm careful and smart enough to not hurt myself. And it's not like I'm just a hermit - I bring food to some of the worse-off precincts in Eleven every few days with friends."

Sean's eyebrows raise, and he gives Kane a long look. "I've known twelve children who were just as or more confident than you in their ability to survive. They didn't make it back. But you never do know…" the victor chooses his words carefully, knowing that hope is what he needs to give these two. "If you can find a way to hide from the older and stronger tributes and a weapon you can use, you just might make it home."

Chastity lightens up once more, giving the first smile that Kane's seen from her. "I'm a good hider! And I can run quickly - well, until I need to cough again. But I can!" The girl coughs, then nods enthusiastically. "Do you really think I can win?"

Their escort, who has been sitting and watching the reapings all of this time, laughs. "If that girl from Six last year made it out against Giovanna, - bless her heart, my cousin had too much money bet on her those Games - anyone can. I'll get you all the sponsors I know that love a good sob story."

Kane smiles as well, knowing full well that this is not his district partner's Game to win. Perhaps it isn't his either, but he never does know.

Perhaps the medication in the Capitol has long-lasting effects… perhaps the arena has a spot where he can hide…

Perhaps, just maybe, he can find a way to get out of there with nothing more than bruises.

 **Another chapter! Wonders never cease!**

 **I have nothing much to say, BUT LCS, Shiro, and myself are writing a Survivor voting games SYOT, so check it out! Go to the account linked on my profile (World of Octobers): the story is "The First Survivor Games: Madagascar". I'd love to see some of you submit!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	14. Flora Perkins: I Can See Clearly Now

**Flora Perkins, 14  
** **District Seven Female**

"Your pin is wrong, you know," Flora's escort says to her as they settle down to watch a re-run of the reapings before the train takes them to the Capitol. "There are buildings in the Capitol that allow us to see the curve of the earth. Do they not have a proper educational system in District Seven so that you know how the world works? My oh my, I'll have to write some letters to people I know in the educational administration soon."

Flora sticks her tongue out at the woman, hating every speck of her prickly-green dress and the horrible spikes of brown hair that made up the top of her head. "Maybe that's what they _want_ you to think. The Capitol can't be right for everything, can they? After all, they made you an escort."

Prue's face reddens, and she leans towards Flora. "Why-why-why, you little -"

"How about some cocoa for the reapings?" Maddie rushes in with two piping hot cups of liquid, seating herself between the escort and Flora. "We want to keep our bodies as sharp as we can while we watch this so we aren't distracted by anything. After all, don't we want to see what people you could ally with?"

Flora smiles at her mentor, grateful that there was someone on her side. Usually people laughed at her like the escort, and she could do nothing but glower and glower until she gave up and kicked them in the shins. She liked to kick people in the shins. "Who did you ally with in your games, Maddie?"

"Why, I believe it was the girl from Five that I worked with!" Maddie says. "Isn't that right, Joseph?"

The other victor from Seven looks over from where he's plotting with Birchwood, nodding. "You're right."

"Why can't you remember everything from your Games?" Flora asks Maddie. She frowns, trying to ponder the thought of forgetting something like a friend. "You said once in an interview that it felt like just yesterday you were in the arena, right?"

"Aren't you the clever one!" Maddie laughs. "I suppose it's because I don't want to remember everything, or maybe I'm just a scatterbrain. Say, Birchwood, what are the names of the tributes from District One? We just missed their segment."

"Oh!" Birchwood Mason says, his big head turning towards Flora and Maddie. Flora notes that he's big, but quite the dolt. Most lumberjacks who were as big as Birchwood were. Perhaps they decided they wanted more muscle than brains so that they could chop extra trees down, Flora thinks. That could work. "They were Lindor MacAvoy, the girl, and Fletcher… Fletcher..." The dolt furrows his eyebrows, trying to remember the last name of the boy from One, then gives a sigh of relief as Joe whispers it in his ear. "Artesian! Lindor MacAvoy, and Fletcher Artesian are the boy and girl from District One - I mean girl and boy."

"Thank you!" replies Maddie, grinning at the dolt. "Now, let's pay attention for District Two."

Flora watches the boy and girl from District Two step onto their own stage, and her stomach churns in protest once more. The excitement of the train had made her forget what she was heading to, but she's reminded that yes, she's been picked to go to the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games weren't supposed to be for someone like her, they were for other people, people who weren't like her, who deserved to go - ugh, that's not what she meant but yes it was. She hadn't expected to be the one heading here, and the thought of having to go to the Hunger Games put her back into the bad mood that she had stayed in while sitting in the Justice Building.

"Oh, the boy from District Three looks friendly!" exclaims the dolt as they watch a silently glowering boy and a confused girl stand in front of a sea of tired citizens. "Do you think that I may ally with him during the Games?"

Joe chuckles. "Three and Seven don't tend to work together, but I know Kaitlynn well and she'd like to find someone with a bit more brawn this year. Perhaps if you talk to him in training and make friends, you could work together!"

"Oh, that would be great!" The dolt gives a big smile to Flora, and she politely smiles back. He doesn't seem so bad - perhaps he too is someone believes that the earth is flat, although that wouldn't mean much considering his mental state.

Oh well, one more for the cause is one more for the cause.

They turn their attention back to the screen when District Five comes on, Flora admiring the scars on the girl. She's older than Flora but she looks brave and smart, and who cares if she has a lot of scars all over her face? They look _cool_. "Perhaps I could ally with her!"

"Hmm, she looks a bit old for you, but I don't see why not." Maddie bites her lip. "Maybe we should look for someone a little… younger. I think that it'd be best to aim for someone more realistic as a partner? Eight and Nine usually have younger girls, so we can try with them."

"But I want this one!" Flora whines, jutting her lip out in a pout. "Why can't I work with her? It's not like everyone will want to be her ally."

"And what can you offer her?" Maddie asks, one eyebrow raised. She sips her cocoa slowly.

"I'd be a good ally! I'm smart, and quick, and fast, and, and, and, I know the woods well! If it's a forest, I can show her around. I'm sure she would appreciate the help, considering that she's from the city," Flora spurts out. "Why wouldn't she want me as a partner? If she doesn't like me, we can just leave each other after almost everyone is dead."

"Well..." says Maddie.

"Well..." says Joe.

"Well..." says the dreaded escort, her eyes on Flora's flat earth society pin.

"I don't see..." says Maddie, her shoulders sagging. "Tell you what, we'll try."

And as the boy and girl from District Six walk away into the pixels of the television screen, Flora grins.

 **Flora is a bit of a brat, as you can tell.**

 **And that's the last intro! I'll put up a poll soon for you all to vote in, so prepare to go share what you think of the tributes so far. I hope I've done them all justice!**

 **Remember to check out mine, LCS, and Shiro's collab on the account World of Octobers: "The First Survivor Games: Madagascar". Get ready - I'm excited to get this started!**

 **Prepare for an onslaught of Capitol chapters - but soon, we'll get to the bloodbath and arena! I'm excited :D**

 **Enjoy. Until the parades, TheAmazingJAJ**


	15. Parade: Lost In The Echo

**Lindor McAvoy, 18  
District One Female**

"I… I have to put that on? _That_?"

"Hurry up and put it on so that we can get you ready with plenty of time to coordinate your entrance with your district partner… Frank?" Gigi murmurs, her quiet, threatening tone still clear as day. Frosty hasn't heard Gigi speak above half a whisper yet, but she's still unnerved by this tiny lady who seems to know exactly how far she can go, yet refuses to reveal it to anyone. "You will look stunning, my dear. Now, quickly. If you're too modest to do it here, you can go behind the screen."

Frosty follows her stylist's order, disappearing behind the screen and pulling out the gem-encrusted two-piece. She doesn't like the idea of stepping out to the Capitolite audience in, well, so little, but the initial fear is replaced by curiosity. Will there be another part of the costume that she hasn't been informed about? How will the crowd react?

...Is she able to pry off a few of the gems, just in case?

A few minutes later, she steps back out in the outfit. "Do I get anything else to wear, or is it my birthday suit all the way?" she asks Gigi. The stylist shakes her head, clicking her tongue in pity.

"My dear, I cannot send you out in just that. You must have something else, something _special_ for this parade. Lavinia! I need a comb and the third piece of this outfit for my dear Lindor!"

Lindor pretends that they aren't pulling her dark, thick hair out of her skull as Gigi and Lavinia pull at the comb again, making sure that no new knots have materialized in what Lavinia delicately refers to as "this thick mane", before adding some sort of crown made of gems or whatever they thought they could get away with deeming as something from the luxury district.

Frosty just wants to get this over with and get out there.

"Oh, Lindor, you'll have to put this on over the outfit. It'll help with the flow and the dynamic of it all," Gigi whispers to Frosty. She wants to tell the two to stop calling her Lindor, but she's given up by this point. Gigi hasn't listened to a single request from Frosty, and she doesn't expect it to change with this one.

She looks at the mirror when she's finished putting on the extra cloth, and raises her eyebrows at the image. No, this isn't Frosty. This is someone else who's wearing this translucent fabric, billowing around her as a cruel parody of a dress. It's beauty with the modesty removed, it's a corruption of a dream.

She kind of likes it, to be honest.

"Now, let's hurry to the parade square," Lavinia says loudly, pushing Lindor in the direction of the door. "Your district partner - Francis? - is waiting outside for you, you know."

Fletcher Artesian is clad in a masculine version of Frosty's outfit, shivering in the breeze with his bare, muscular chest exposed. The gem-encrusted cloth makes two bands on his arms and then preserves what little modesty he has left with the remaining material. Instead of over his body, like Frosty's fabric, the translucent fabric are on his legs, woven tightly around his thighs and calves before a final layer is allowed to remain loose. He winces when he shifts in position, and Frosty notices that the material sparkles in the light. "Good to see that you have to suffer just as much as I did."

"Just you wait until we get onto the chariot," Frosty laughs. "You ready to see the Capitol?"

"Am I ever!" Fletcher points to one of the smaller tributes from the outer districts, a Five. "He looks like he's about to faint."

Frosty giggles, nodding along. "Too true, too true. Do you think that we should go and give him a good scare?"

"Eh, better to stay here for now. I don't want to scare him out of his wits before we begin. Gotta give them all a chance, right?"

Frosty punches Fletcher in the arm playfully, still laughing. "You big softie, you're going to get yourself killed thinking like that."

"We'll see." Fletcher's expression darkens a bit, and Frosty turns away from the man. He's no fun when he goes all serious - she can't tell what he's thinking at all.

"Hey, One!" The Two girl is standing over with her partner, dressed in a long, flowing grey robe with stiff edges that shimmers in the light, and Frosty waves back with a big grin. "Looking a little underdressed, don't you think?"

"Minimalism is all the rage, isn't it?" Frosty walks over and gives the girl a peck on both cheeks, letting her return the same gesture. "Frosty MacAvoy. Yourself? Thetis something… does it start with a K?"

Thetis giggles, dirty-blonde hair flying through the air when she shakes her head. "I'm Thetis Clifford - not that hard to remember, fortunately."

"Isn't that the same name as the Four boy?" Frosty asks, starting to laugh again. She doesn't know why she's in such a good mood - but she knows it's a good time to keep it up. She has to charm. "Cousins?"

"Who knows?" Thetis gives a shrug, then turns away. "Dimitri, we've got to get to our chariot this _instant_!"

Frosty watches the surly boy from Two follow in the trail of his partner, then turns back to her own strong, silent warrior. A smile begins to play on her lips, and she runs back to the chariot.

She has work to do.

 **Lanson Cartwright, 18  
District Twelve Male**

The sun is warm on his face, and he tries to smile at the chariots in front of him as the horses are prepped to trot out into the large walkway before reaching the president herself.

It's surprisingly hard to smile when he's outfitted in the most awkward coal miner's outfit he's ever seen. Especially when he's never even been _allowed_ to work in the mines, considering that the recent child labour laws in District Twelve only allowed those over the age of eighteen to work inside the dark, dusty corridors underneath Twelve's feet. Then again, he should have expected this - almost every year Twelve has been in the parade has ended up with them being given yet another coal miner's outfit, complete with the headlamp that his stylist had told him was adorable.

Yes, he feels adorable enough to throttle the next person who comments on how original this outfit is.

"Oh-oh, I feel nauseous," moans Livia to his right. She's also dressed in the same miner's outfit, with a small leather belt around her waist to distinguish her figure from Lanson's. "Can you get motion sickness from riding just on a chariot?"

Lanson takes a small step away from Livia - he doesn't want to get splattered with her breakfast. "I don't think so, but who knows?" He waves an arm for emphasis, then winces - his skin still feels flayed from whatever they did to it in the Remake Centre.

"I… oh!" Livia leans over the side of the chariot and retches as the horses begin to move, and Lanson thanks whatever higher power that had made sure that they wouldn't be seen by the Capitolites until the others were well on their way.

Even if he did like Livia, he doesn't want the first official image of himself here being privy to her vomiting.

The higher power is smiling down on Lanson today, because Livia manages to queasily wipe her mouth and calm back down as the horses start to move. "I suppose - hic! - that I'm just having a case of the nerves. My mother has them as well."

He isn't going to enjoy this week at all, is he?

No, he needs to get a grip. Freaking out now over this girl is not the right choice, even if every bone in his body is begging him to chastise her. _She's his own age!_

No, Lanson needs to think of something else. He looks around the procession of chariots and horses that keep jerking forward to begin their own march to the end of the walkway, watching the costumes. At least it's keeping his mind off of Livia, who now is jostling Lanson to get a better place to stand on the chariot. "So I can wave to the crowd!" she says with a smile, and Lanson doesn't return it.

District One is clad in what first seems to be a _very_ revealing costume, sparkling gems encrusted on light, silver fabric. But then he sees the shimmering, see-through fabric that surrounds their bodies, the sun causing the costumes to shine all the brighter. When the girl opens her palm and starts to throw out a few gems that her stylist must have given her, Lanson can see that she's already made this parade her own.

District Two is dressed, yet again, in a warrior theme - the girl is in a dark-grey dress-robe that billows in the wind and clings to her sides, but its black edges are crisp and firm, probably some allusion to their industry of rock and stone. She's holding the same sort of sword as the boy, who seems uncomfortable next to her but is dressed in the same material. He's bare-chested, and his tanned skin is surrounded by a more traditional robe of sorts. But he has his sword as well, and stands as stiffly as he possibly can as the crowd cheers for him.

Next is District Three, who is clad in some sort of lights show. The girl seems to be enjoying it, giggling while she spins around to let the flashing buttons and knobs fly through the air, but the boy's lower lip is trembling and he looks like he's about to cry.

District Four is a bit better, both dressed in what must be classic fishing dress for their district. The boy, covered with shimmering fabrics, pretends to hook a fish for the audience and they erupt in laughter, while the girl stands to the side. She looks miserable.

District Five and Six look similar… too similar, Lanson thinks as he looks at their black bodysuits that are covered with wire and bits of metal. The girl from Five is at least trying, waving to the crowd and giving smiles to anyone who'll throw her their roses, but the rest refuse to move.

District Seven are trees, yet again. The girl is screaming something to the audience and holding up a large pin, but he can't make out what she's saying. District Eight passes by as well, dressed like curtains that threaten to drag the two tributes away as a strong wind picks up. Lanson laughs, then ducks as one of the curtains comes flying off of the girl from Eight, whirling through the air, over the heads of Nine and Ten, and straight onto the boy from Eleven. Now the boy is falling as well, hitting his head on the side of the chariot and struggling to get up as the Eleven girl begins to scream.

Lanson doesn't think of waving to the crowd or trying to make himself amiable. He's too busy staring at the boy, who's still struggling to get up - there's blood, so much blood - as peacekeepers rush up to the chariot and carry him away.

It's now that he realizes that the game has begun. Yes, it's all begun, and he's twelve steps behind whoever's winning.

He doesn't like that thought.

 **First Capitol chapter! Hurray!**

 **We're only getting closer to the games :o how do you think everyone will do? Any ideas on how the Capitol will end up? Any alliance predictions? Leave some thoughts!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	16. Training I: Alright

**Dimitri Muller, 16  
District Two Male**

He doesn't want to get out of bed at first, but a need for routine urges Dimitri to stumble out of bed and grope for whatever slippers that he had worn last night. He peers out of the window and sees that it's still early morning, the sun still refusing to rise over the Capitol as he pulls on a shirt. Then, he's in the dining room and sipping a cup of cocoa, watching last year's games as he waits for the others to get up.

"This was the moment when Isa realized that she had a chance, you see," the commentator drones on as the screen shows a small, frightened Isa running from the flames and to the Cornucopia in the centre. "Before, she had merely sowed her seeds - joining the career alliance and, as a result, being the only one left at the cornucopia, surviving the feast, getting herself a weapon - but when she got to the cornucopia and prepared herself for Giovanna, that's when people knew that she could be our victor. And she did it!"

"Isn't it, like, five in the morning?" Thetis rubs her eyes blearily, stumbling out of her room and leaving the door open. "I usually sleep in, but that television is so loud."

"My fault, I should have turned it down," replies Dimitri. He sips his cocoa and turns down the volume of the television, the commentators now at a mild hum.

"Oh, I was enjoying listening to that." The two turn around, surprised by the voice of Caleb behind them. "But I have things to do today, so it's good that we got rid of this distraction. Are you two ready for the day?"

"I'm ready to go back to bed," Thetis moans, but perks up after taking a sip of the coffee that Caleb hands her. "Oh, this is good! We've always had poor substitutes that must have been made from acorns or something at the Academy, Dimitri can testify. We made them in our dorms so that some of us could get up in the morning. But this - oh, it's so creamy!"

"Good food here. It looks great, too," Caleb quips, and they all laugh. Everyone's aware that Caleb has been blind for close to three years. "Natalia will be up soon - she's used to sleeping in as well, but Clay and I force her to get up early for this week."

 _For your week of teaching rule-breakers how to win the Games they weren't decreed to be in?_ Dimitri thinks for an instant, a scowl threatening to form on his face. He's still uneasy about being here, but he knows that it's the will of the gods - why else would he have been reaped for this year? There was a boy who made a motion to step out of his pen and head towards the stage, but Dimitri had fixed him with such an angry glare that the boy had retreated back inside. No, these were the Games that the gods had chosen for him to be in.

And he will do what they know he has to do.

In what feels like a few minutes, the morning flashes by and it's time for them to head to training. Thetis grabs one last cinnamon bun and heads out the door, Dimitri following right behind her. They head to the elevator and take the short journey down, Thetis yawning as the door opens for them so that they can enter the Training Centre. "Big day today. You ready, Dimitri?"

"I should be." Dimitri walks into the room and sees the other tributes for the first time - the careers, who are all here early except for the two from One, as well as most of the outliers. He doesn't know any of their faces or names by heart, so it's good to see that everyone has numbers on the uniforms that they put on this morning. It'll help him keep track of the rest of the tributes here.

The two from District Six are here next, then Nine, then One _finally_ strolls through the door. "Sorry," Frosty apologizes to no one in particular. "It wasn't the best of mornings to start early."

"Welcome! Now that everyone's here - well, except for two, but one's in the hospital and the other's mentor has an excuse, - we can begin." The instructor seems relieved to see that everyone's here, and finally begins the speech that she must practice for weeks on end to perfect. "This is the Training Centre..."

Dimitri listens attentively, taking mental notes - not on her speech, but on the rest of the tributes. He's already been informed of what she'll be describing to them, all things that he's been told before in the Academy. He knows that he could die of dehydration or some disease hidden in food and water sources, and he also knows that his best bet is to get rid of the rest of the tributes before nature can attack him with a vengeance. Instead, he watches the group and looks for the threats: the cunning gleam in Fletcher's eyes as she points to the weapons, the way that the girl from Five is trying to pay attention but keeps watching the other tributes, just like him, the way that the boy from Seven looks too big to _not_ know how to handle an axe.

When he and the careers finally have their first meeting, he knows exactly what he needs to do.

Yet, he's not sure if he can.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome to everyone!" Thetis gives a lovely smile to the five careers gathered around her, Dimitri close to her. He knows that she's one of the volunteers, one of the people who don't deserve to win, but he can't help but like her. In any other case, he'd like to ally with her through the Games.

But he knows what he needs to do.

"I'm Frosty, and the golden giant over here is Fletcher. He doesn't talk much, so much apologies," Frosty says, cutting off her district partner in mid-sentence. "I've met Thetis, but not the rest of you all. And you are, Two?"

"Not working with you," Dimitri spits. "I don't work with volunteers."

And he marches away, taking a second glance back only when he's far away enough to not see the shock on Thetis' face.

He knows what he's doing is right, he does.

But it's hard nonetheless.

 **A short chapter today, but the order will make more sense in chapters to come. For now, Dimitri gets to rest easy in his own chapter.**

 **Any thoughts on the chapter? Is Dimitri deluded? Time will tell, but I hope you enjoyed this for now. It's going to be a fun ride into the Games - and _there_ it'll only get wilder. I'm excited!**

 **Enjoy the chapter, and have a great day. Until the next, TheAmazingJAJ**


	17. Training II: I Don't Know My Name

**Gadget Sycamore, 13  
District Three Male**

"I'm tired. Do we have to keep working on this shelter?"

"I'm hungry. Can we stop making this fire and go to the cafeteria now?"

"I'm bored. Let's go play one of the games over there instead of practicing camouflage, Gadge."

"Don't call me Gadge, please," Gadget replies, biting her lip in frustration. Even though his initial proposal of working together had seemed promising, especially since he was so, well, so much older than her, Paris had quickly proven to be the most annoying teenager she had ever met. "I want to keep practicing the camouflage - you never know what it could do in the arena."

"Well, that's stupid. You don't even know if there's going to be, like, trees or something in the arena. You know what? I don't want to keep on working with you. You're wasting our time."

"Good luck," she replies, with only a tinge of malice that the boy doesn't notice. Paris walks away, whistling something before heading over to one of the plant-identification stations, and she breathes a sigh of relief. He had seemed nice at first, he really had, but he was just so _annoying_. Gadget felt like she couldn't get a single thing done with Paris breathing down her shoulder, waiting for her to finish with what she was practicing so he could waste more of her time.

Maybe she doesn't need an ally in the arena. Yes, she's good on her own.

For now.

She finally finishes with the camouflage station after she's painted a butterfly across her arm, giggling at the zany colours that she's decorated it with. "There probably won't be anything as beautiful as this in the arena, will there?"

"Likely not," the instructor replies with a melancholic smile, and Gadget's stomach drops again with the remembrance that she's supposed to die in a few days.

It's hard to stay happy when she remembers that.

So the next station she heads to is the water station, where an instructor teaches her how to make a filter with commonplace materials. The man at the station seems to be happy to have someone here, and Gadget is amused by the fact that using a sock, gravel, and sand can provide clean water for her in the arena. She likes it - she doesn't want to be one of the people who die because they don't use clean water sources. But after finishing her water filter and draining enough water to take a small drink, she looks over at the section filled with snow. "Why is there snow in that part of the station? Why would you have to filter snow? Isn't it, like, rain water but solid?"

"Anything can get into the snow, and it's best to melt the snow before you eat or drink it. That way, your body doesn't have to generate as much heat so that you can properly consume it - if you're in a cold climate, it's going to be best for you to reserve as much heat as possible. Little things like this can win you the Games, and it's a crying shame that not enough people realize it's the small stuff, like your food and water, that will keep you alive out there."

 _What's the point if someone bigger and stronger than her slices her in half before she has a chance to survive?_ she wants to ask, but she keeps quiet out of courtesy for the instructor. He's been nice so far, and it wouldn't be very kind to offend him like that.

So she smiles, makes the filter to clean the snow that she boils at the fire-making station, then heads to the next area.

It's plant identification that she wants to try next, and she takes an uneasy seat next to Paris. He's gazing furiously at all of the different plants and their labels, likely so that he can get ready for another test at the screens in front of them. And soon he does, allowing Gadget to study the plants unabashedly. But he returns all too soon, cussing up a storm as he does so, and she notices by the scars on his hands - or, rather, the lack of scars on his hands - that he's not done the menial labour that most children from Three do in the factories. He's not from any of the Ember-villes, he's not used to hardship.

Maybe she shouldn't be so hard on him.

But when he pushes plants off of the table in disgust, she gives up and walks away. She doesn't want to confront him right now, when he's in his worst mood.

So instead, she finds herself on the rock wall.

Another girl, who looks like the one from District Five, is clambering up the rock wall as well so fast that her harness can barely keep up with her. When Gadget grabs a difficult handhold and pulls herself up, the girl risks losing her own grip to give Gadget a thumbs up and a grin.

Gadget likes her.

But she's now stuck - between a rock and a hard place. She can't find a way to haul herself up the wall without falling now, so she hangs in limbo as she looks for a way around the obstacle.

"You can do it!" the girl cheers, taking one last step up before she leaps up and latches her fingers around the final rockhold. And then Gadget sees it - a small hold on the side, just large enough for her fingers to fit in.

It may not be a good idea. It wasn't the safe option, and if she messes up, she's going to get something scraped to the bone, if not broken.

But when she grabs a hold of the wall after a wild, time-slowing leap, and realizes that she's made it past, Gadget feels nothing but bliss.

 **Kane Rowan, 16  
District Eleven Male**

Kane is tired - well, he's tired of being wrapped up in bandages and being cared for instead of getting the chance to train. He's been in the hospital ward of the Tribute's Building for the past day or so, just recovering from the nasty fall he took on the chariot.

Pity about that curtain, it was one of the things he hadn't thought to watch for.

He lifts a hand to his head and winces, feeling the mound of large, swarthy bandages that have been wrapped around it. One of the many nurses has injected him with some sort drug that hopefully will help his blood to clot quickly. Judging by the fact that the bandages are still dry, it should be working.

If all goes well, he'll be right as rain in time for the interviews.

But for now, he lies back in the bed and waits for someone to come, something is given to him, for _something to happen_. The first few hours of being here had been interesting, with the nurses bustling around and telling him that he was a poor dear before slipping him things to eat, but he wasn't allowed to move for fear that he would break something again. Now he's just stuck in the bed with no company except the massive television that hangs above the edge of his bed. A re-run of the Fifth Games is playing on the wide television screen, and he listens to the broadcast.

"Oh, and Sidney's just gotten to the top of the building! Ashira is making her way up as well - I say, how did they manage to get all of these animals to stampede the building? A spectacular job on the part of the mutt specialists, they certainly know their mutts. Oh, they're stampeding off of the building! And… and it's only Sidney and Ashira, and they look _angry_."

Kane shudders at the sight of Ashira slowly, surely defeating Sidney before finishing the job with a knife to the neck. He doesn't want to think of that right now, he doesn't want to be reminded of the fact that's supposed to be him.

He thought that if he would get a chance to train, he'd find a way to survive. Maybe there was something there to teach him to avoid conflict, to preserve his energy, to lay low until he needed to move.

But now he's bedridden until the nurses take pity on him.

They aren't the type who take pity on their patients easily.

There's a commotion at the end of the ward and he peers over to see another tribute walk in, plop down on a bed, and wait for one of the nurses to wrap bandages over his arm. Kane watches in interest, noting by the boy's uniform that he's from Eight. "How'd you get in here?"

"Oh, I fell off of the ropes station," the boy replies with a laugh. "I'm too careless for my own good, I guess. You?"

"Hurt myself on the chariots," Kane replies. More gruffly this time, he continues. "I hit my head… they wanted to make sure I was alright. Now I'm stuck in here for the rest of the week, I guess."

"Oh, cheer up! I'm sure it can't be that bad," Eight replies. "How come you can't leave if you're not bleeding? I mean, as soon as this is bandaged up I'm going to head back out and keep training. I'd like to make the most of every second I get, you know?"

"Complications," is Kane's answer. He likes the boy, he does, but he doesn't want to talk about hemophilia. Maybe it's best to keep some things to himself - if he lets others know about it, it would be easier for them to kill him off early and get one more competitor out of the way.

No, he'd like to stay silent.

"Ah," Eight replies, as if he understands perfectly. They sit there for a while, the nurse bandaging Eight's arm like no tomorrow. Then, Eight tries again. "So, I'm Chase. You're…?"

"Kane. Kane Rowan," he says. "Good to meet you!"

Chase grins back, and Kane notices how skinny he is. He's taller than he should be, being that thin.

It must be really bad in Eight if that's what they consider healthy.

"Well, I better get back to training now," Chase says when the nurse finishes wrapping his arm and a badly skinned knee. "Good luck, Kane - I hope you get out of here earlier than you expect."

"Same." Kane waves goodbye to Chase, then settles back into his bed. They're now playing the reaping recaps, and he watches the two from One jump onto the stage and declare their right to volunteer. They're both as fierce as he expected them to look - both ready to fight anyone who gets in their path. The tributes from Two look much the same, although the boy doesn't volunteer. He's reaped, instead, and gives the evil eye to anyone who dares to volunteer in his place. It works, and they both walk into the Justice Building before it cuts to District Three.

Kane leans back into his bed, letting his head sink into the pillows.

He doesn't want to be stuck here.

No, but he is.

So he might as well make the most of it.

He takes the remote, and backs through the tape until it's back to the beginning of the reaping recaps.

Then, he memorizes everything he can about his fellow tributes.

 **Our next chapter! How did y'all enjoy it? Any exciting parts? Do y'all think that these two will do well?**

 **ATTENTION ATTENTION THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE - MAKE SURE TO HEAD TO THE NEXT CHAPTER AFTER READING THIS - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**

 **Enjoy! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	18. Training III: A Million Dreams

**A/N: ATTENTION ATTENTION THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE - IF YOU HAVE NOT READ TRAINING II THIS WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO HEAD BACK AND DO SO**

 **You have been warned. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Triton Clifford, 17  
District Four Male**

He throws one last trident at the target and watches it bounce to the side, off of the target and onto the floor of the Training Centre. He still hasn't mastered the trident - he's better with knives, despite the fact that every District Four volunteer is proficient with tridents. He likes knives. They're versatile and easy to use in the wild, and they're easy to hide on himself if he doesn't want others to know that he's carrying them.

But no, he's supposed to be the boy from Four. He has to use his trident, he has to know how to win it the way that District Four would want him to.

He can't act like he's from the same district as his sister.

He shoots a glance over at Thetis, who is practicing another round of sparring with one of the instructors. She's strong as well, but after a strong fight she's overpowered by the older woman and forced to concede. His sister doesn't seem like the type to dwell over losing - she's too confident, too cocky to do that, even. But she's nice to be around. He likes her.

He still hasn't told her that he knows that they're twins.

It was a long, long time ago when he had first asked his mother what had happened to his father. She had looked up from the meal that she was preparing, bit her lip, then told him "in Two, with your sister."

A _sister_! Triton had thrilled over the thought of having a sibling for weeks. He had someone who he could talk to, share all of his secrets, to cry to when he felt like he was at his lowest.

When he had realized that he would never have the chance to speak to her, he had only learned her name, age, and what their father looked like. When he tried to ask more, his mother had dodged the question with side-glances and leaving the room on some pretence. She didn't want to answer anything else, and he respected that.

Even though he had thought about her for years, no one was more surprised than Triton on the Four train to see that a Thetis Clifford of District Two, with the same brown eyes and dirty blonde hair of their father, volunteering as the female tribute for this year's Games.

He looks over his shoulder again to see if she's still sparring with her instructor, but shouts in surprise when he sees that she's right behind her. "You okay, Four?" she asks, amusement sparkling in her brown eyes.

"I'm alright, yep," he manages to reply. "You startled me a bit."

"More than a bit!" Thetis chuckles, shaking her head. "You almost jumped out of your own skin right there, Triton. Don't worry, I don't bite. I just wanted to ask -"

"Ask about my family?" Triton nods, knowing that he's startled Thetis. "With the same last name, I figured you would sooner than later."

"No, I'm probably just being an idiot." Thetis kicks at the ground, blushing a little. "It's just that I've lived in Two with my father and step-mother and step-siblings all my life, and never knew my mother. I've never even met anyone with my last name here - I don't know why, but that's the way it's been. So when I saw your name..." she trails off, staring at the floor.

"I never knew my father," Triton offers. "I asked my mother, though. She said that he lived… he… he lived in… District Two."

On a whim, he pulls out his token - the wedding ring that his mother had given him. "It's my father's. She said that they both have gold bands, he had a large diamond and she had two..."

"I -" Thetis looks like she's about to explode in excitement. "My father has the same wedding ring - it was in his socks drawer - there were two diam -"

"Two diamonds," they say at the same time.

Later, they take a seat in the cafeteria and eat plates of spaghetti while trading stories about their home life. They both end up crying at different points, the other careers looking curiously over at them before returning to their own meal. Thetis and Triton will return eventually.

"So, do you think that Dimitri will return or if he's gone for good?" Triton asks after they're all out of stories, biting down on one more meatball. "If he's not working with us, he's going to be against us - I don't think that's something we want. We'll have to get rid of him early if we want to keep ourselves alive. One of us has to get home."

"I think that I can get him back if I convince him that we aren't all bad." Thetis thinks for a moment, watching the table where Dimitri is sitting by himself. "He's really religious for some reason - he thinks that volunteers are these devilish little beasts that don't deserve to win the Games, and the only reason that he entered the Academy and trained was because it allowed his parents to have extra money if he succeeded. Everyone knew that he was smart, that he was good for the Games - but he would have never volunteered. I think that they rigged it, honestly - he was too good of a tribute to pass up, and the few possible volunteers this year for the boys were too young, too inexperienced, or managed to half-kill themselves. How about Lumara? She's small, and she didn't volunteer either - you think that she'll do well?"

"I don't know her personally, but I've heard that she's one of the rich families in Four. Probably lives in a mansion or something, but Cliff told me that she's a good swimmer. And she should have trained at the Academy as well. She wouldn't hurt us too badly, and is too small to do any serious harm."

"Then I'll try to get Dimitri back, and you'll watch Lumara. Deal?"

"Deal." And they shake hands, finding comfort in the small fact that they have each other.

Even if one of them has to die.

 **Bayleigh Mountainson, 12  
District Ten Female**

"I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die."

She's huddled in her apartment's bathroom yet again, tears streaming down her face as she rocks back and forth.

She's been in here more often than not at this point.

After what feels like a year but must have only been a few minutes, she gets up from the floor and washes off her face. Tearstains have covered her cheeks with wet, shiny lines, so she washes them off with a warm, wet cloth and looks at herself in the mirror.

She looks a like a mess. For a moment, she wants to stay in this room and never leave, so that no one can see her and mock her for looking as bad as _this_. But she needs to start moving, to do _something_ , or she'll waste the few days that left in her life. Her mentor had tried to get her out of the room before, but she had refused to. She was too upset, too terrified to leave. For the past three days, she's been treating this room as her refuge from the Capitol - a place to retreat to whenever she felt overwhelmed by everything that she had to do.

There's quite a lot to be afraid of, here.

But no, she has to get a grip. If she stays in here, she'll rot away until peacekeepers come get her. Grimacing at the thought, Bayleigh opens the door and steps out into the living room.

Unsurprisingly, given that it's the middle of the day, it's empty.

She takes a seat at the table and asks an avox if she could have some food, who returns promptly with a steaming plate of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes. It's creamy and salty and so… so… oh, it's even better than she could have imagined.

It's her first proper meal since she's came to the Capitol, and she enjoys every bite.

As she sits by the table, she notices the remote and flicks the television on. The large screen, a blue-ish hue on the black background, flicks on and reveals footage of the reapings. There, she watches the different tributes volunteer and be reaped - there's quite a few who react adversely, even crying when they realize that they've been reaped, but none react like she did.

When the screen shifts to herself crying on stage and wailing for her mother to come and get her, Bayleigh turns off the television and stands up from the table.

She doesn't want to think about that.

She has to be strong.

Bayleigh walks out of the room and into the hallway, looking for the elevator that had brought her up to tenth floor. It's at the end of the hallway, and she climbs in before pressing the button for the bottom floor. She's still not totally certain about how to use this, but she watched her mentor press the tenth button to bring them up to their floor and it had worked. The first floor must be the bottom button, right?

The elevator goes down, and down, and down. Bayleigh watches the glass reflect images of the other floors around the space, then gasps. Why is it going past the ground floor? Why is she going into the basement of the building, instead of where she could have asked someone where to find her mentor? Will it be damp and dirty, just like the basement at her own home?

She doesn't like this.

As the light disappears from the elevator and the doors open as it reaches the bottom floor, Bayleigh puts a hand over her face to stop the lights from blinding her. No, she's not in some subterranean basement. This must be the training centre that her district partner had talked about, - Cody, she thinks his name was - where they can all learn skills to keep them alive in the Hunger Games.

When their mentor had given up and disappeared to his room, Cody had tried to teach Bayleigh about the Hunger Games as well. She knows that it's a competition where they're supposed to fight to the death, with the last one standing being the only one to live. She had tried to ask Cody about the youngest kid - tribute, was it? - to win the Games, but he hadn't answered her. Maybe he hadn't heard her question.

She sees Cody at the end of the training centre, and waves to him. Everyone's dressed up in tight-fitting uniforms, and Bayleigh glances down at her own clothing. She's still wearing one of the outfits that she had found on the train, a beautiful blue dress that she loved to twirl in.

Maybe it wasn't the best choice for here, where wearing a uniform would do her best. Then again, she might as well try. She only has so much time until she has to go to the Games, right?

Cody glances up and drops his sword when he sees Bayleigh, walking quickly to come get her. "Oh, Bayleigh, you actually came down here? I thought you were going to stay in the apartment until our escort came to get you for the private sessions - oh, she's going to be worried when she doesn't find you. Oh well, she'll find you eventually. Well, it's good to have you here!"

"Thank… thank you," Bayleigh replies, trying to remember her manners. That offhand comment one of the peacekeepers had tossed out about her being a brat still stings, and she's trying to behave in a way that no one would get annoyed at. She just wants to be liked.

Cody brings her over to the sword station, and she gives it a few experimental swings - almost losing control of the sword, but still holding on - before practicing against a dummy. It's hard, but Bayleigh is determined to learn.

She has to learn.

She has to try.

 **I hope y'all liked that - we're getting into the private sessions! Huzzah!**

 **Enjoy the chapter and all that - I'm excited to keep going. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	19. Private Sessions: Ocean Eyes

**Lumara Barrett, 15  
District Four Female**

 _Deep breaths, Luma,_ she thinks to herself as she sits next to Triton and waits to be judged by the game makers. It's a long, long wait. Every fifteen minutes or so, another tribute enters the room and she bites her lip in impatience. She just wants to be able to show what she can do, she wants to prove herself.

Maybe if she does that, the careers will fully accept her.

Right now, the only reason that she's with the careers is because Dimitri has left the alliance. Lumara's well aware of that - she's not stupid. Triton and Thetis seem to tolerate her, but Frosty gives her a few curious glances every so often, as if she's waiting for Lumara to make a mistake. It makes her feel nervous - she doesn't like to not be in control. If only she had something like her river, where she could dive into the waters and pretend that nothing is happening. That everything is normal.

But she has to keep performing the way everyone wants her to. She has to keep proving herself, or they'll get rid of her early. She's seen the way Fletcher looks at her. He doesn't like the idea of someone as young as her in the alliance, and the other careers seem to not care about her. If she messes up, if she doesn't do what they want her to do, she'll be killed in the first few minutes.

And everything she's ever dreamed about will disappear right in front of her.

And now Dimitri enters the room, the doors closing loudly behind him. Lumara watches the peacekeepers take their places in front of the door, one checking her watch before standing in the stiff, emotionless stance that all of the peacekeepers seem to have perfected. He seems like he's a nice guy, just too judgy. Why wouldn't he want to work with them? She didn't even volunteer, and that's what Thetis said he's been mad about. Maybe he's just mad at the rest of the careers, and she's not the one he's angry about.

Oh, she doesn't know what to think anymore. She just wants to show what she can do.

"Are you ready for the private sessions?" she whispers to Triton, who's busy staring at the doors to the training centre. "I think I'm going to show them what I've learned with the longbow, then do some memorization challenges. I'm good at those - the teachers at the tech school say that I have an eidetic memory. What that means is that I'm good at memorizing things, nothing special."

"Tech school? Lumara, have you ever realized that you're filthy rich?" Triton returns, still staring at the doors. "I'd give almost anything to be half as rich as your family is, and I'm from a fairly well-off family."

"Oh, so you don't have many bathrooms or bedrooms." Lumara nods wisely, knowing what Triton means. "Some of my friends say that my house is huge, but theirs are still fairly large - a bit cramped in the top floors, though."

"Try two bedrooms, a bathroom, and two other rooms besides." Triton laughs. "I'm lucky - I was the only kid, so I got the room all to myself. If Thetis lived with me, we'd share a room… we'd have to fit a lot more in, but it'd be worth… worth it…" he trails off, going back to staring at the doors.

 _Oh_. Lumara hadn't thought of that. But what about larger families? If they were in places as small as Triton, how would they fit themselves in? Would they have to live in those five rooms? She knows families with tons of kids, and she knows that they're supposed to be poor.

She just never really thought about what that meant. Perhaps there was always a little nagging voice in the back of her head that reminded her that she was lucky, but she had always assumed that everyone else had it decently. Life was supposed to be good, and if wasn't, there was a reason for that.

Oh, she's a poor, poor fool.

A hand touches her shoulder, and she looks up. It's one of the peacekeepers, tapping a foot impatiently. "It's your turn."

She looks around for Triton, but he's not there - she must have missed seeing him go into the training centre. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to pay attention.

And now, she has to get her head back in the game. She has to be smart. She has to be aware.

She has to remember that she's half a step behind everyone else here - and she has to catch up.

The game makers are up above her, in a room that overlooks the training centre while watching her closely. A few have clipboards, and others are sipping drinks as they adjust glasses and prepare to watch - to decide how much potential she has, Lumara realizes with a shudder.

No, she can't get nervous now. She's good at being strong, she knows that. It's time to perform.

She can do that.

The first thing she takes up is the longbow, almost dropping her first arrow in her rush to shoot quickly. But she holds onto it, drawing the arrow back as far as she can before letting it go with a twang from the bow. The string vibrates back and forth, hitting her shoulder, but the protective gear she's put on makes sure that it doesn't hurt her.

Her first arrow lands in the target. So does the second, and the third, and the fourth. She keeps switching positions, showing them that she can shoot from different angles. A few miss, but not many - and she's able to get one in the chest of a dummy she aims at.

She's learned well.

As she begins the plant identification test, she sighs, relieved that she knows what she's doing.

She might make it through this. She just might.

 **Ellington Lockwood, 18  
District Nine Female**

She's nervous.

Elle doesn't want to admit it, but she isn't prepared for the private sessions. Most of training had been spent trying to ignore the voices in her head, to ignore the fact that she's supposed to die. She doesn't want to die.

But the voices are telling her that she will.

She bites her lip as the girl from Four enters the training centre, taking a glance back before heading to her session. Elle remembers watching her try not to break down on the reaping stage, and wishes that she could have given the girl a hug then and there. She deserves it.

The other tributes are fidgeting in their seats, the boy from Five letting out a sigh of relief as he realizes that all of the careers have left the room. Everyone's nervous around the careers, the pack that's determined to hunt down them all. They've kept to themselves for the most part this year, but a few rumours have been floating around that the boy from Two has left the alliance and that they're looking for another partner. News travels fast among the outliers, despite the fact that they don't know one another, and Elle heard from the girl from Eight that they were supposed to have approached the girl from Five before one of the Fours had argued them down from it. The careers are a strange, strange group.

Elle doesn't want to have anything to do with them. The less they notice her, the more likely she is to escape them in the bloodbath.

She's doing exactly what Falcon tells her in the bloodbath: when the gong sounds, she'll run for the hills and never look back. Granted, it might be an indoor arena, but there'll be a place to run. There always is.

And she won't waste one moment. She doesn't trust herself around the weapons for now, not when she gets overwhelmed so easily. She only likes the bow and arrow - there, she can plan. It's not spur of the moment, it's a weapon where she can prepare and push away the voices before she does something stupid.

She doesn't want to know what would happen if she had to use anything else.

As the boy from Five, then the girl from Five, and then the boy from Six enter the training centre, Elle looks around at the rest of the tributes. The girl from Six is sitting quietly where she is, rocking back and forth in her seat as she waits to be called up to enter the private sessions. Elle shudders a bit at how pale the girl is, with bright red eyes and short, snow-white hair, but she seems nice enough. And when she disappears, Elle can't help but hope that she does well.

The pair from Seven are having a quiet discussion, as well as the two from Eight. Elle smiles when she sees how they playfully banter - they look like they're having fun.

"Elle, do you think I'll do well?" a small voice asks, and she looks down at her district partner. Del has straightened up and is puffing his chest out in an attempt to look stronger than he is, but he's simply too small to look intimidating. With a pang of regret, Elle realizes that he's only a year younger than her. It doesn't feel like that.

"You'll do lovely, Del," she replies, giving him a warm smile. "You'll show them your throwing knives, and you'll be strong enough to complete the ropes course that you were talking about with Falcon. They'll love you!"

"They'll be awestruck by the sheer size of my frame, you mean," Del says, and they dissolve into snickers. He's quite the funny guy, but Elle knows that he's hiding whatever pain he has in his past. She hasn't learned much about him - something that she regrets - but she's learned that his mother is abusive. The poor guy, being abused by the mayor herself.

At least he's safe here. She should convince him to run away from the bloodbath as well, so they can both get out. She wouldn't mind working with Del.

He's a nice guy.

Soon, Del enters the training centre as well, and she's left all alone. She sits by herself, with only eight other tributes and the voices to keep her company.

She'd rather talk to the tributes, but the voices won't go away.

 _You'll die alone._

 _Don't trust Del._

 _You won't do well._

 _You should give up._

 _You'll die, you know._

She looks up, beads of sweat forming on her forehead when she sees the peacekeeper. "It's time to go?"

"Yep."

Elle enters the room, taking a glance up at the game makers. Most of them are watching her, but several are chatting amongst themselves and eating a meal that's being prepared for them. They won't watch her closely, it seems.

She grabs the bow and arrow, and fiddles around with the string to get it just right. It takes a bit to make sure that it's in a place she likes, but she prepares the bow and pulls back the string. One… two… three…

As she aims, she focuses on the red in the middle. She has to hit the target, she just _has_ to.

 _And then her mother is in the room and standing in front of the target, and the arrow flies towards her. Closer and closer and closer and closer and it goes right through her heart._

 _The truck comes closer, and Elle walks across the road -_

 _And now she's screaming, stuck in place as the voices attack her yet again -_

 _And her mother flies through the air, knocking her away and onto the side of the road as the truck comes closer -_

 _It's all red. It's all red._

And as Elle starts to scream, she doesn't notice that she's pierced the centre of the target.

 **New chapter! Hurray!**

 **What do you think? We're getting closer and closer to the bloodbath - three chapters to go! I'm quite excited :D**

 **Keep having fun, being awesome, and reading! I'll see you soon with the next chapter.**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	20. Score Reveals: You're So Vain

**Audra Zimanski, 16  
District Five Female**

Nubis is huddled up on one side of the couch, eating popcorn and watching the screen. There's a frown plastered on his face, and no one makes a move to comfort him. Not even Rosanna. No one wants to start him cursing again.

She's sitting next to Rosanna, listening to the older victor talk about the scores. It's nice to sit with Rosanna. She's just a nice, kind person that Audra appreciates talking to. And she's cunning as well - Audra's seen her interact with sponsors on the phone, she knows how smart Rosanna is.

She did well to learn everything she can about the ins and outs of the Games from Rosanna.

Now, she just needs to put it into practice.

"For District One: Flint - no, _Fletcher_ Artesian has received a ten! And our lovely Lindor MacAvoy has gotten herself a nine. A strong showing for this District!"

The television announcers continue to discuss the scores, and Audra turns to Rosanna. "What do you think of these two? I'm worried about Fletcher - he's strong and silent, and he seems like the type to go after the stronger tributes. I can only hope that he doesn't pick _me_."

"Fletcher's strong, but in the typical career way - I've talked a bit with Ben, and he doesn't think that he'll go far. It's Lindor you'll have to watch, or, rather, Frosty." Rosanna pats Audra's arm, giving a warm smile. "You're fast, and smart. You'll be able to stay far away from those two."

"Oh my, Dimitri Muller has earned himself a nine! And Thetis Clifford has an eight - a decent showing for these two from Two! Will District Four be able to keep up the strong streak for the typical alliance?"

"I don't trust Dimitri - he seemed unstable during training. But apparently, he's ditched the career alliance from what I've heard from other tributes. Do you think that they'll gun for him?" Audra looks over at Rosanna. She knows how people work, especially groups - if a small but powerful person shows up without others to rely on, the group will get rid of them before they get too powerful. She's learned a lot from living with the uncles.

"Yes, but I don't know how he'll do - I've heard from Ben that he has a vendetta against volunteers. Hopefully, they'll get him quickly. But if not, stay well clear of him. You're not going to fare well against him, especially if he's been trained. Thetis should be alright - I believe she's another typical career girl. Honourable and all that."

"Alright, I'll make sure to do that." Audra turns back to the screen, waiting for the next group of scores to be announced. She's interested to see what the game makers thought of her own performance. She did what she wanted - she didn't touch any of the weapons. She didn't need that. Instead, she told them secrets - dirty little tidbits that she had picked up by watching the game makers during training. There's more stuff than most people think that can be picked up by watching body language and listening to gossip.

Hopefully, it worked.

"Paris Fresel has received a five for his efforts - and for Gadget Sycamore, a four!"

Audra nods slowly. "I guess that they won't be a threat."

"Be careful with Paris - he seems violent." Rosanna shakes her head for emphasis, russet curls waving in the air.

"He does, but he seems too slow mentally to do much. I don't think he'll be a threat," Audra replies. Rosanna nods her head in approval, and they turn back to the screen.

"Triton Clifford has earned quite a high score - he has a ten! And Lumara has gotten a six - not too shabby for being reaped! That's the second highest non-volunteer score of the night…"

Audra stares at Triton's face, biting her lip. She plays with a strand of brown hair, turning back to Rosanna. "He's going to be someone to watch out for. I'm nervous."

"He's going to be alright, don't worry. You'll survive if you play it smart - I know what you can do, Audra. You will make it through." Rosanna embraces Audra, and they hug for a while. "Stay clear of him, but don't worry. You'll have plenty of space to get away from the careers."

"Thank you." Audra still feels a bit nervous, but she wants to learn what she has to do to survive. She knows how to survive, she does. She hasn't survived all of these years for nothing - tricking men and women into handing information to her for her uncles' benefit, taking on new identities like it's her own whenever she needs to deceive yet another person. She can act for people, she knows how to manipulate them. She's smart.

But she's also worried - she doesn't want to fall victim to anyone early. She has to be careful, she has to watch out for the other tributes. One wrong move, and she might be dead.

She can't let her guard down.

"And now for District Five! For Nubis Skylar, a score of… five, just like his district! Congratulations to Nubis for his great score. And now, we have Audra Zimanski - she has received a score of… seven!"

Audra nods slowly, a small smile on her face. She doesn't trust Nubis' score, but he's too small to do anything to her. Sure, he might be prickly and hiding something up his sleeve, but he won't hurt her.

She'll avoid him.

And as for her score?

It's exactly what she wanted.

 **Chase Farlay, 16  
District Eight Male**

"And now for District Six: Gilbert Dongalls has received a three. And for Celaeno Cruise - this lovely person has received a six! A grand score for Celaeno."

Chase nods, grinning a bit. "Calaeno's a nice person - they're fun to be around. I'm glad they did well."

"Poor Celaeno, they can't help but look nervous all the time with that skin tone," Xiomara says from her seat on the couch, calmly eating grapes next to Tomas. "At least they'll manage to scare us all to death in the Games when we're convinced they're a ghost."

Chase laughs, reaching over to grab a grape. Xiomara hisses at him playfully and tries to hide the bowl from Chase, but he grabs a grape and pops it into his mouth. "Delicious!"

"Oh, shut up." Xiomara snickers, and they both laugh. "Wonder how Seven will do - I'd say that the guy was as dumb as a bag of rocks but he's not from Two. Saying a bag of lumber just doesn't have the same ring to it, you know?"

"We have the scores for District Seven! Birchwood Mason has earned himself a six - oh, the game makers missed a great opportunity to give him a seven, don't you think? - and Flora Perkins has received a two!"

"Now Flora is dumb as well, but in a vastly different way. Have you seen that pin of hers?" Xiomara smirks shaking her head. "Girl thinks the earth is flat or something."

"Huh, that's weird." Chase thinks about it for a bit, biting his lip. "Maybe she'll see the curve of the earth when we head up in the hovercrafts."

"I think we'll be too busy panicking about death to think about the curvature of the earth."

"True." Chase uses this moment to grab another grape, throwing it into his mouth and biting down with a satisfying squish.

"And now we have the scores for District Eight - so exciting! Chase has received a score of five, while Xiomara has received a score of six! A solid showing for District Eight, and now let's take a look at…"

Chase scratches an arm idley, continuing to watch. He's getting bored by this point - scores mean next to nothing to him, mainly because he hasn't thought about sponsors. He's performed decently for the game makers, and they gave him an average score as a result. It's the score of someone who isn't trying.

A little voice has been screaming at the back of his head to get up and try for once in his life, but he hasn't listened to it. He's been too busy enjoying the Capitol, too busy stuffing his face with whatever he can find to eat and watching cheesy movies whenever he gets the chance. He's also done a lot of talking, looking for possible allies. But even though he's had no success, he doesn't want to stress about it. If these are his last days alive, he wants to enjoy them.

In the end, slacking off like this might be the reason why he'll die.

But he just can't find a reason to get to work now.

There's no point.

"And the scores for District Nine are right in front of us, so - careful, Horatio! Don't cut your hand on that envelope, we don't want blood on the scores! - let's find out what they are! Del Picsis has received a score of… four! And Ellington Lockwood has earned herself a score of… seven! Marvellous!"

"Huh, I didn't expect Ellington to do that well. She always seemed like a five to me - what could she have done? Hm…" Xiomara lapses into thought, still eating her grapes while pondering the question. Chase grabs another grape, but she doesn't notice. When Xiomara starts to think, it's hard to get through to her.

Oh well, more grapes for him.

"So far, you two have done decently," Tomas says. He yawns a bit, and Chase realizes that he must only be a year or so older than them both. _Weird._ "I think I can get you sponsors if you get out of the bloodbath quickly - just keep to what we've discussed, and you'll do well. I think we can get one of you home if we really work at it."

"But what if we starve because we haven't gotten something from the cornucopia?" Chase starts to ask, then thinks better of it. He should run - he's not good with weapons, from what he's learned in training, and he's merely less bad with his survival skills. But if there's something close to him at the cornucopia…

What would be the harm of grabbing something quickly and then making a break for it?

"District Ten's turn! Cody Ridges has earned a five, while Bayleigh Mountainson has earned… a two! Well, two times five is ten, so the game makers are still keeping up their lovely tradition of matching scores with districts! Isn't that right, Jessamine?"

"Hey, Tracks." Chase looks curiously over at Xiomara, wondering why she wants to ask him something. He's told her his nickname before, but never expected her to actually use it - not many did.

"Yeah?"

"And we have District Eleven! For Kane Rowan, we have a score of… two, and Chastity Blythius has earned… a one. Oh, dear."

"I know you want to mess around at the bloodbath, but stay away from the careers. They're going to implode this year." Xiomara nods, and Chase stares at her. How does she know that?

"District Twelve is last, but not least! Lanson Paylor has earned a four, while Livia Donner has earned a three!"

He thinks for a moment, then nods. He needs to do _something_ , he knows that. He just never found the motivation to. This might be it. "I… I will."

He will.

 **Another chapter!**

 **What do you think of these two? Any scores surprise you? Are the announcers completely foolish?**

 **Thank you to everyone still reading, y'all are marvelous. I'm glad to have you here.**

 **We're getting close to the bloodbath! I'll see you soon with the interviews.**

 **Enjoy! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	21. Interviews: Let It Be

**Gilbert Dongalls, 15  
District Six Male**

He feels sick now - sick and nervous. He doesn't want to go out onto the stage, he doesn't want to do this. He just wants to go back to the apartment and pretend this isn't happening, that he isn't about to die.

He doesn't want to die.

He doesn't want to die.

He doesn't want to end up like Tony.

A stubborn tear manages to escape his eye and trickles down his face, smudging a bit of the make-up that one of the stylists had smeared on as they prepared his outfit for the interviews. He didn't like it much, but the team had declared that it suited him. He's been dressed rather casually, in a white t-shirt and black pants. A black blazer makes him look formal enough to sit on the stage, and they've done his make-up so he doesn't look too much like a mess.

He feels like one, though.

"Oh, your make-up is running again!" one of them says. Clucking her tongue, she descends upon him with a make-up brush that she uses to fix whatever smear previously adorned his skin. "Now, there you are. Hopefully that will wow the rest of the audience. Cheer up, you're going to be seen by the entire nation!"

Gil shudders.

He's ushered out into the line of the tributes, taking his place behind his district partner. Celaeno turns around, their hair braided elaborately around snow-white extensions. "I think they wanted to make me look like an avox or something at first, but I asked for something neutral. So they gave me this tuxedo instead! I like the way it glitters - it's fun."

Gil looks at the dazzling set of clothing. "Yeah, you look great. Good luck, Celaeno."

"Thank you!" Celaeno turns back and continues to watch the front of the line, and they listen to the host - one Alexander Belmont - begin to speak to the tributes. Gil listens as well, but he just feels tired.

If only it could be over with already.

"Well, well, well, welcome Lind- no, I've been informed that you're Frosty! You look stunning in that dress: blue suits you!"

"Thank you, Alex! I..." The One girl continues to speak, but Gil tunes out. Isa's tried to tell him to be confident on the stage, but she gave up and went back to talking with Celaeno after he yelled at her. He doesn't know why he did that. He shouldn't have been mad at her, she hadn't hurt Tony. She had done nothing wrong.

Maybe it's because he remembers the way she was before.

"My, my, Dimitri, you look great! That tuxedo fits so well - oh, now I see the different colours! Turn for the audience, so they can see how lovely this is! Your stylist must be getting quite the raise after this. Now, tell me how you're enjoying the Capitol. I've heard a lot about…"

Funny enough, he's only felt more at peace since he's came to the Capitol. He hadn't realized it, but at home all he could think about why he got to live and Tony died so suddenly. Why was he dead? Why did Gil get to live? Why was he still here?

But now?

Now, he feels like the guilt has vanished. Now, all that's left is the dread. It's a terrible, dark thing that preys at him whenever he tries to stop thinking about it, but it's better than the guilt.

He knows that it'll vanish when he dies.

"Triton, you are marvellous! You're a dazzling dark night, with the way that blue fades into… it's a whole spectrum of blue to black! It's beautiful! Now, tell me about Thetis. Come on, spill the beans - we've been waiting with bated breath to find out if you're related… folks, did you hear that? Let's give a big round of applause for these two!"

As the raucous applause continues, Gil watches the boy from Four grin at the crowd before look over at the girl from Two - no, not the Two, his _sister_. They look nervous now, but they plaster on fake grins for the audience.

They didn't plan to do this. They don't want to lose each other.

Huh.

As the girl from Four walks onto the stage, she glares at the audience. She looks vicious, dressed in silver and glittering with jagged edges. And now she attacks, telling the audience _exactly_ what she thinks about the whole process of sending them off to die.

But instead of boos, the audience dissolves into applause as well for her.

Gil thinks they're quite strange.

As the girl from Five charms the audience with a story about how she got her scars, Gil turns back to Celaeno. "I don't want to do this - oh, I'm not going to be able to speak a word up there."

"Good luck!" is their reply, and now he's walking onto the stage with his heart in his throat.

He hates this.

"Welcome, welcome! Gil, it's good to have you with us! How are you doing? You look stunning in that blazer - it fits you perfectly!"

Gil tries to speak, but no words come out. His tongue is betraying him, refusing to say anything at all. So instead, he shuts his mouth and doesn't speak. His cheeks burn with embarrassment, but he tries not to look at Alexander. It'll only make it worse.

"Oh, cat got your tongue? Don't worry, mine tried to bite a chunk of my ear out when I gave him a bath. Don't worry, it's still intact!" The audience laughs on cue as Alexander shows his ear, a nasty scratch on the lobe. "Now, Gil, we all have one question: how do you feel being here? We know that you're related to a very special guy who was here with us last year - who _doesn't_ miss Tony?"

Gil tries to close his eyes, but hot, shameful tears spill out and onto his shirt. He buries his face in his hands, shuddering with every sob. He just wants this to be over.

He wants to go home.

Oh, he's going to die tomorrow.

 **Flora Perkins, 14  
District Seven Female**

"Welcome, welcome, welcome! Flora, it's so good to have you up here with us!" the host continues, flashing yet another one of his perma-grins towards her. His teeth are blindingly white, and Flora wonders if he has really good teeth or if he's had surgery for them. She'd bet that it's the latter.

"Well, I'm glad I get to be here. I have a few things that I'd like to discuss with everything, if you don't mind." The host nods, and Flora pulls out her pin. Cradling it tenderly in her hand, she displays the large pin to the audience. "This is my earth pin - I'm the head of a earth-truthers society back at home. We only have a few members, but we're always looking to recruit more people to the cause. We just want to make sure that everyone's informed, you know?"

"But - but the earth _is_ round, you know," replies the host. He looks confused, stuttering over his words as he tries to regain control of the conversation. But Flora's already two steps ahead of him.

"Propaganda to hide the truth from us all. This pin is in the shape of the earth - if we turn it to its side, that's what the earth is like. You can't deny it: it's not round. There's no way to prove that it is, you know."

"But if you fly high enough, you can see that the earth curves. You do know that, right?" the host replies, having given up any niceties. Flora allows herself a little smirk - she's getting through to him.

"We've had some studies showing that when you get high enough, the tiny hairs that grow in your ears get out of balance and cause you to hallucinate. It also rounds things - so you _think_ that you see curves when you do. It's quite simple to understand, really. It's all just a big lie told to us so we won't know the truth. What other information could the government be hiding from us?" she asks, looking at the shocked audience. Some are tittering in amusement, while others are merely confused. Maybe she's getting through to them as well.

"Well - oh, the bell's gone off! I'm very sorry, but that's all the time we have for you today! Thank you to Flora for joining us, it was great to have you. Now, it's time to meet Birchwood! Don't be shy, come on up and take a seat next to me! It's so good to have you here, and - oh my, you're dazzling!"

Flora's ushered off of the stage and into her seat by a stage hand. Her dress is rumpled from the unceremonious walk away from the interview, but she doesn't mind. She thinks that she looked good - her dress is a lovely shade of blue, complete with a white sash around her waist and tiny white shoes on her feet. They hurt from how tight they were, but it was worth it.

Maybe she helped a few people join the cause.

After discussing timber, of all things, the dolt comes walking towards her and sits down heavily in his seat. "Did I do well, Flora?"

"Yeah, you were great, Birchwood." She ignores her district partner, listening to the girl from District Eight instead. She looks smart enough, cracking jokes with the host before walking away from the stage in her red dress. Maybe if Flora got someone like that on her side, more people would listen to her. Their mentors had told her to not talk about the flat earth theories that she had, but she hadn't paid them attention. Why would she give up the opportunity to educate so many people? Why would she throw away it when she had the attention of the nation?

Yes, she did the right thing for herself. And after all, it made quite a splash. She hadn't seen the host of the interviews this year get tripped up once as he was talking with the tributes - not until he reached her.

Maybe he'll think a bit more about what she had to say after it's all over.

After the boy from Eight talks about his class with the host, - Flora should have learned his name by now, but she doesn't really see the point of memorizing useless information - the girl from Nine takes the stage. Her dress looks like it's been spun from gold, and Flora lets out a low whistle of surprise. She's dressed for the occasion.

"Yes, I struggle with… I struggle with a few mental issues," she tells the audience partway through her interview, and the audience applauds. Not loudly, though - they're somber.

They're respectful.

Flora keeps watching the rest of the tributes take the stage - the boy from Nine, confident as he jokes around during his interview, the girl from Ten, whose voice wavers as she tries to seem older than she is, the boy from Ten, who plays it coy with the audience, the girl from Eleven, who coughs all the way through her interview, the boy from Eleven, who pretends that he hasn't been hospitalized for the last few days, the girl from Twelve, who almost hisses at the audience in her anger, and the boy from Twelve, who tries to be coy as well but ends up just seeming hilarious.

Poor souls, she thinks to herself when the interviews finish and Maddie comes to bring her and Birchwood back to the apartment. They won't make it far.

And will she?

She will.

She knows that she will.

 **Last tribute chapter! Next, we have an interlude and then we FINALLY dive into the arena! Excitement!**

 **Thoughts? Ideas? Predictions? Feel free to share!**

 **Thank you all for reading, and enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	22. Ready For It?

**Isa James, 16  
Victor of the 16th Hunger Games**

She follows Doug through the narrow corridors of the building that they're in, holding her hand over her face so that she isn't blinded by the harsh, bright light of the fixtures above them. "So we're going to the mentor's room?"

"We'll likely be the last ones there - most of them head off early so that way they can prepare and find sponsors quickly, but I made sure we'd leave later so that you can get the full experience. And so you could say goodbye and all that." Doug looks worried, and Isa realizes that he kept her with their tributes later so that way she could say her last goodbyes. She's about to lose her first tributes.

Oh, it's so strange to think that they're _hers_. But hers they are, and she knows that she'll cry like a child when one of them dies.

For a moment, she wishes that she could just hide in her room back at home where everything feels safer, but she clenches her fists and walks after Doug through the doorway. She's not going to be a child now. She's not going to run away.

She's going to do her duty, even if it means she has to watch these two die.

A few mentors look up from their screens when they walk into the room, and Doug leads her to the centre of the room. "Ben, the Twos, and the Fours all work next to each other so that they can discuss strategy. We don't often have to interact with those ones - although must of us will be swearing once the careers start in the bloodbath. We sit next to Kaitlynn and Rosanna, lovely people. We don't often get a chance to work together, but it's good when we do."

"Oh, that makes sense," she murmurs as she walks through the room. All of the others are here - fourteen victors, watching her from their own little worlds. Ben, Clay, Natalia, Caleb, Kaitlynn, Magdalene, Craig, Rosanna, Maddie, Josiah, Tomas, Falcon, Sean, Ashira, all of them are here.

She's surrounded by heroes, and she's never felt so small.

She wonders how Calaeno will do. They've talked about it, and Isa has told the tribute to run when she can. Calaeno won't do well in combat, but they can run fast. They'll be able to escape the bloodbath, and then they'll be in it for the long haul. Isa's had a few sponsors show interest in her tribute, and she's spent a few nights just trying to get as many connections for Calaeno. She knows that it might not work, that the arena might have anything in store for her girl and she hasn't been prepared for it all, but she's hopeful.

She hasn't talked often to Gil, but she knows the boy resents her. He resents the fact that she's here and Tony isn't, that she gets to live while his brother died. A wave of nausea rushes over her as she remembers how Tony had fallen off of her pedestal and into a million pieces, and she tries not to gag.

She can taste blood on her tongue.

"It's beginning!" a voice shouts in the room, and everyone heads to their respective screens. Isa slides into her seat and watches Calaeno being taken up, up, up by the tube and into the arena.

All around her is glass - well, on one side. Now that she has a chance to focus, Isa can see that Calaeno's in front of a large glass window. Behind it is shining snow, so bright that Isa can't look directly at it. They must be on some sort of mountain… is this a chalet? She remembers her parents talking about one, something about how they went to a ski mountain for their honeymoon. Before the Dark Days, of course, when districts were still accessible. It's a large, large room, with a small cornucopia in the centre that's overflowing with supplies. And there's doors, and stairs, and places where tributes can run to hide.

But as the counter begins to tick, Isa sees one more thing.

The doors are blocked by a wall of steel.

 **GAMES TIME GET READY - WE'RE GETTING IT IN FORTY-EIGHT HOURS**

 **That is all. I promise there will be chaos, so get ready!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	23. Bloodbath: Keep On Keeping On

She can't wait.

 **.oOo.**

 **Lindor MacAvoy, 18**  
 **District One Female**  
 **0 Kills**

The glass tube keeps rising, higher and higher, and Frosty bounces on the balls of her feet as she waits for it to reach the top and enter the arena. When it does, she takes a good look around her: they're in some sort of building with tall, clear windows that show the arena outside. She shivers in delight when she sees the snow, and looks down at the small parka and snowboots she's been outfitted in.

They'll be in the snow these Games.

As the tinny, automated voice keeps counting down, she continues to look around. They're in a large, open room that must be the first floor of the building. There's a set of stairs that lead up to _somewhere_ , but she can see at the top that the entrance is blocked. Unless that's moved by the game makers, the outliers won't be able to run so easily.

Especially with those steels walls that block the doors to the arena.

When the voice reaches thirty, she takes a look around the circle of tributes. They're all close to one another this year, everyone nervous but determined to get to the cornucopia. She can see the fear in the eyes of outliers who know that they can't escape, while others quickly determine that they'll have to get to the cornucopia. The fact that everything enclosed makes this bloodbath so much more _delicious_. They'll be getting rid of a good amount of the competition, if not all of them.

She can't wait.

"Get to the cornucopia, Frosty!" Fletcher yells from across the room, and as the gong sounds, he jumps down and grabs the boy from Three. Tearing off his belt, he wraps it around the boy's neck and pulls.

As the room descends into chaos, Fletcher chokes the boy until he's satisfied that he's dead and gone. Rubbing his skin where the boy clawed at him in one last bid for freedom, he walks, rather than runs, to the cornucopia.

He's in no hurry.

Frosty grabs the claws that have been placed next to her pedestal - just for _her_ , she's made sure in her private sessions to let the game makers know what she can do with these - and leaps into the melee. The first tribute she finds is the boy from Five, rummaging through a box of supplies to find something that he can use. A quick slash across his neck fixes that, and Frosty digs into his neck with the claws to make sure that he's truly out of the way.

She's on her way to another tribute, looking for someone else that she can get rid of so that the field is thinned, when she feels a sharp prick at the back of her neck. Pausing, Frosty rubs the back of her neck before she starts to feel fuzzy.

As she collapses, she sees the girl from Five standing over her. Something's in the girl's hand, and Frosty tries to ask her what it is. Funny, she can't seem to get the words out.

She can't do anything at all.

 **.oOo.**

Well, she only has to make it a few minutes more.

 **.oOo.**

 **Audra Zimanski, 16**  
 **District Five Female**  
 **0 Kills**

She stands over the body of the One girl, watching the light go out of her eyes before she gives a sigh and dies. No one's noticed her death yet, and Audra melts into the crowd. No one's paying her attention, she just looks like a scared girl that's running for her life.

She stumbles over the bodies of the girl from Seven and the boy from Nine as she heads into the cornucopia, clucking her tongue in sympathy. Too young, both of them. They didn't deserve this.

But they couldn't run. After all, the steel barricades haven't moved an inch.

Well, they are, she sees as she glances over at one of the exits. All of them are starting to move down, crawling down into the floor. Anyone who can defend themselves for the next few minutes will have a chance to escape into the arena, but everyone else is trapped. The game makers are trying to hand the Games to the career pack this year.

Well, she only has to make it a few minutes more.

In the corner of her eyes, she sees the boy from One slice apart the girl from Three before heading back for more. He's vicious, that one - she's avoiding him. Instead, she grabs a pack that she can fit between her shoulders - it's bright green, exactly what she asked the game makers to mark her pack as.

If everything that she needs is inside, she's prepared for the Games.

She heads away from the bloodbath and to the side of the chalet's walls, noticing that the two from Eleven are here as well. They're waiting by one of the doors, the boy holding a knife while looking around the room with a nervous gaze.

She's staying well away from those ones - they'll be dead in minutes.

As she walks around the room, staying to the perimeter, she sees a door behind the cornucopia that no one else has spotted yet. The barricade is over it as well, but it's almost down - in another minute, it'll be low enough for her to reach the doorknob and escape.

As she runs over to the door, she sees one of the tributes from Six head her way as well - it's Calaeno, the one with pale skin and white hair. She looks panicked, and Audra keeps away when she sees the sword in her hand. She's not going to challenge someone who's too dangerous right now.

But as the barricade keeps moving down, a trident whistles through the air and past Audra's shoulder. She gasps, whipping around to see the boy from Four running towards her. But he's focused on the girl from Six, who now has the trident in the centre of her chest.

It's her chance.

She runs at the barricade, clambering over the metal and turning the knob. It opens, and she takes one last glance back to see the face of the boy from Four. He's aiming his trident again.

She slams the door, and runs into the snow.

Audra doesn't look back.

 **.oOo.**

They have to run. They have to run.

 **.oOo.**

 **Kane Rowan, 16**  
 **District Eleven Male**  
 **0 Kills**

He runs with Chastity, a bag of food and a knife in his arms as he heads to one of the doors. The metal that separates them between the bloodbath and freedom is still taking its time to lower into the floor, but it's still moving down - slowly but surely. They're going to make it. They're going to make it. They're going to make it.

They just have to hope that none of the careers come after them until they can run.

Chastity bends over and begins to cough, phlegm flying from her mouth and onto the floor. "Oh, I feel horrid - please, Kane, you don't need to go with me. You can save yourself - I'll only hurt you, especially with your condition. Please, Kane."

"I'm not going to leave you." Kane draws his knife and turns around, his back now to the door. "If anyone comes after us, I'll put up a fight. When that happens, you have to run - doesn't matter where you go, just get away from me."

"I'll try." Chastity starts to cough again, breathing in deeply. "Oh… oh!"

Kane shudders, watching the girl from Three get stabbed in the back by the boy from One. None of the careers have noticed them, but he doesn't want to jinx his luck.

Just a few minutes more…

"Get away from me! Help, someone, help! I need to get out! Help me!" Kane turns around to see the boy from Nine running in their direction, a scream forming in the shape of an O on his lips. "Help me, someone! Help me!"

The career chasing him lets her go after a few more steps, and the boy keeps running towards Kane. He draws his knife and prepares to protect Chastity, but it's too late - he doesn't run towards them. He's heading to another exit, throwing himself at a boy who's standing there while hammering on the door to get out. "Give me your weapon! Give me it!"

The boy - it's the one from Eight, is his name Chase? - yelps. The boy from Five's nails rake across his face, leaving nasty scratch marks that won't disappear for a while, but the boy swings the spear in his hand at his opponent. The boy is knocked away for a moment, winded by the impact of the spear, and then the boy from Eight drives the spear into Nine's chest before ripping it back out.

Kane turns green with nausea, and the Eight does as well.

But then he turns away - Chastity's screaming.

The focus of her concern is the boys from One and Four, only coming closer and closer with weapons in their hands. The One boy looks immovable, holding a sword that looks like a toothpick in his hand, while the boy from Four pushes back his blond locks of hair before getting ready to throw his trident.

They have to run. They have to run.

He grabs Chastity's hand and yanks, just barely out of the way of the trident that comes soaring through the air. It hits the wall but doesn't stick, clattering down onto the floor. But Kane isn't around to see it fall.

The staircase, to the side of the room, is his focus: he pulls Chastity behind him as they start to mount the stairs to the next floor. He bangs his knee against the railing and winces, knowing that a massive bruise is already starting to form.

But they have to run, so he does and does and does until he realizes that the stairway's blocked by a barricade as well.

Chastity screams, clutching to Kane with all of her might. Her eyes, still bright green and brown, are filled with tears. "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have followed you."

"It's ok," he whispers to her as the careers ascend the staircase. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

 **.oOo.**

"You can't be reckless if you don't want me to steal your kills."

 **.oOo.**

 **Triton Clifford, 17**  
 **District Four Male**  
 **0 Kills**

He shakes his head, giving a low whistle in surprise. "I didn't expect them to do that."

"It makes it all the easier," is Fletcher's reply. Triton raises his eyebrows, surprised by the response. He's barely heard Fletcher speak at all, and now he's gotten a whole sentence.

Fletcher is the first to walk up the staircase, his left hand tracing the railing. It's gorgeously made, a long strip of polished wood that circles around the spiral staircase. Everything here is so beautifully made. He's surprised by the quality of everything, already, and he hasn't even left the building.

What will it be like when they get into the arena itself?

Below them, Thetis is tussling with the pair from Ten. The boy is fighting as hard as he can, slashing at her with the knife in his hand, but her naginata - it took ten tries for Thetis to teach him the word - digs into his side. Triton gives a small grin, happy to see that Thetis is managing to fend for herself. The girl manages to get away, past Thetis and through a door on the other side of the room, but she manages to hack apart the boy before looking up to wave at him.

They're doing well.

Fletcher reaches the two quickly, and draws his sword out. "You two ready?"

The girl is blubbering now, holding onto her district partner like he can save her from her death with tears running down her face. She looks like a mess, and Triton winces when she starts to cough from crying so much. To stop the tears, he plunges the trident in his hand through her chest and back out. She screams, a long, high, shrill sound, and then crumples to the ground. She'll bleed out in a matter of minutes.

"That was mine, Four," Fletcher murmurs, and Triton looks over at him in surprise. Fletcher is glaring at him. "Don't do that."

"Why not? It's only one kill, Fletcher," Triton says. Fletcher grunts, then shoves the boy from Eleven over the edge of the railing. The boy plummets down, falling until they both hear a sickening thump and a scream to match.

"Now, let's go. We might be able to get a few more if we're lucky." Fletcher turns to head down the staircase, but Triton grabs his arm. "What?"

"You can't just push tributes like that - what if they get away?" Triton glances over the railing to see if the boy's gotten away. He isn't moving, but Lumara is dealing with him. Thank goodness. After watching the boy from Seven chop through the boy from Twelve's skull with his axe, he turns back to confront Fletcher. "You can't be reckless if you don't want me to steal your kills."

Fletcher responds by punching Triton in the face.

Triton stumbles backward, tasting blood in the back of his throat as his nose begins to throb. Then he launches himself at Fletcher, and they tumble down the staircase in a heap. Their weapons fall to the side and are forgotten, both boys trying to claw at one another.

Triton tries to get on top of Fletcher and land a punch, but the boy is too strong for him. Slowly, surely, Fletcher pushes his way up and on top of Triton. He grabs his sword, and Triton sees the boy from One smile for the first time. "I've been waiting a bit to do this."

But before he can, blood starts to pour out of his mouth. Triton gapes at Fletcher, then wriggles away in panic as the boy from One crumples to the floor. His killer chops through his neck with a large sword for good measure, severing whatever's left of Fletcher's spinal cord, then turns to Triton. "You alright?"

"B-but I thought you left the alliance - how?" Triton stammers, fumbling for his trident. "What happened?"

Dimitri Muller smiles, the corners of his mouth turning upwards ever so slightly. Triton can see Thetis descending on another tribute before turning to him, her mouth agape. They're both surprised. "I changed my mind."

 **Yep.**

 **Before my much-needed apology, here are the eulogies! (only fourteen, so you don't need to throw _that_ many rotten vegetables at me :o)**

 **A lot of these things appeared to happen out of order, but this is essentially how it went. If you think that one of the placements is wonky, feel free to switch it around for yourself - they're all quite close.**

 **24th: Paris Fresel, District Three Male; Killed by Fletcher Artesian. Created by laterglader.**

Paris was a fun submission: one of the whinier tributes who acted younger than they were before dying early. I'm glad I got him, and now we can all be happy that he's disappeared. Thanks to laterglader and Fletcher for making and killing this guy respectively.

 **23rd: Del Picsis, District Nine Male; Killed by Triton Clifford. Created by Professor R.J Lupin1.**

Del was a sweet guy, someone with a lot of nuance that didn't really get to shine the way he should have in this position. Thanks to Professor R.J Lupin1 for someone who deserved more than this.

 **22nd: Livia Donner, 18, District Twelve Female; Killed by Lindor MacAvoy. Created by santiagoponcini20.**

Livia, quite simply, was one of the worst people to exist here. She was doomed to die early, either because her mouth got the better of her or because she just truly, truly sucked at keeping herself alive. It was Frosty who took her out - thank goodness, tbh. Thanks to Santiago for a girl that we could enjoy hating, or at the very least pretend like she wasn't here.

 **21st: Flora Perkins, District Seven Female; Killed by Thetis Clifford. Created by laterglader.**

Our first pov tribute to die, and one of the more exciting, Flora was stubborn in her attempt to prove that the world was flat. She was a blast to write, of course, but there wasn't any reasonable way she'd survive the bloodbath unless she ran - and the fact that all of the exits were blocked doomed her. A lot more tributes may have survived if it wasn't for those steel walls, but they all fell to the bloodbath. Thanks to laterglader for the most stubborn girl here! Maybe her heaven is flat.

 **20th: Lindor MacAvoy, District One Female; Killed by Audra Zimanski. Created by BulletproofReed.**

Frosty was fun as well, although she was a bit ditzy. She should have and would have performed better in another arena, where she'd get the chance to play the social game and, in her own right, prove to be one of the strongest threats here, but Audra had plans and Frosty was not among them. Thank you to BulletproofReed for a fun career.

 **19th: Gadget Sycamore, District Three Female; Killed by Fletcher Artesian. Created by willemsbakedgoods.**

Gadget was the third pov tribute to die (I killed quite a lot in the bloodbath oops), and definitely one of the weaker ones. She was strong-willed, smart, and willing to fight if she needed to, but the fact of the matter was that she was too small to survive an encounter with a career. Fletcher attempted to go on a rampage this bloodbath and was one of the biggest threats, so she fell to him as well. Thanks to willemsbakedgoods for Gadget.

 **18th: Nubis Skylar, District Five Male; Killed by Chase Farlay. Created by Galaxy842.**

Nubis was a tribute who fell under the radar, ending up as someone who'd be cut to pieces if he found his way into a fight. It was Chase who had to deal with him in the bloodbath, and managed to stop Nubis with a spear and a lot of pluck. Thanks to Galaxy842 for Nubis.

 **17th: Lanson Paylor, District Twelve Male; Killed by Birchwood Mason. Created by santiagoponcini20.**

Lanson was another pov tribute, and didn't deserve to die like this. I was originally planning for him to go further and have a bit more development, but his submitter requested for him to die in this position and I thought - why not? I love big bloodbaths, and I hope that Lanson's death was satisfactory here. He was a good guy. Thanks to Santiago for Lanson.

 **16th: Cody Ridges, District Ten Male; Killed by Thetis Clifford. Created by 66samvr.**

Cody was a fun, lazy dude who ended up maturing a bit and trying to help his district partner escape, which really was nice of him. He was meant to float around and be lazy, but in the end he was won over by Bayleigh - idk how THAT happened - and protected her to the very end. She's made it out, so he's accomplished that at least. Thanks to Vr for a fun dude.

 **15th: Chastity Blythius, District Eleven Female; Killed by Triton Clifford. Created by LordShiro.**

Chastity was doomed for the start - I mean, cystic fibrosis? She had no chance of surviving the bloodbath, although Kane tried to help her out here. She almost made it - if it wasn't for the exits being blocked, she might still be here. But the careers were nothing but efficient in the bloodbath, and it was her turn to die. Thank you, Shiro, for a fun girl for D11. They never had a chance, did they?

 **14th: Kane Rowan, District Eleven Male; Killed by Lumara Barrett. Created by Manectric11.**

Kane was the other half of D11, and his submitter originally suggested to make him seem like he had a chance before ruthlessly killing him off. Almost dying in the parade really didn't help things out, but I hoped I fooled some of you with the direction that I took him in. He was a fun guy and deserved much more than this. Thanks to Manectric11 for Kane.

 **13th: Calaeno Cruise, District Six Female; Killed by Triton Clifford. Created by AmericanPI.**

Calaeno was one of the tributes who didn't deserve to die here - they were capable and intelligent, but the fact remains that they were relatively weak and not strong enough to put up a fight. Instead of escaping, they ended up inadvertedly letting Audra flee the scene - bleeding out for a while before ending up in 13th. Thanks, PI, for Calaeno! I hope the fact that Triton killed them doesn't sting too much.

 **12th: Fletcher Artesian, District One Male; Killed by Dimitri Muller. Created by PaxZola.**

Fletcher wasn't such a bad person at the start, but I wanted an antagonist for the arcs and storyline that I was planning and Fletcher was here at the right time and place. He had enough temper to make it happen, and fighting with Triton ended up killing him. It turns out that Dimitri was having regrets leaving the alliance, and he came back just in time to save Triton - assuring him a place, no matter how tentative, in the alliance. We'll see how the careers go from here. Thanks to PaxZola for Fletcher!

 **11th: Xiomara Castro, District Eight Female; Killed by Triton Clifford. Created by paperairline.**

Xiomara would have been really fun if she was a pov tribute - but in the end, she ended up getting killed in the bloodbath due to the fact that she waited a few seconds too many to escape. She was smart, witty, and if she managed to get out, would have been a good pairing to Chase. This wasn't her bloodbath. Thank you, paper, for Xiomara.

 **Yep, f-o-u-r-t-e-e-n. I bet you didn't see that coming!**

 **And now we're into the final ten - but the fact that so many died so early shall complicate manners. We'll see how this affects the arena, but for now I hope you're all content with this. I'm excited for the arena, and I hope you are too!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	24. Bad Blood

Yes, they can work well as a team. Now they just have to get rid of a few more tributes, and they'll be the last ones left.

 **.oOo.**

 **Lumara Barrett, 15**  
 **District Four Female**  
 **1 Kill**

The first thing they do is stack all of the bodies.

"Watch out!" Triton calls as he grabs the body of another outlier and stacks it on top of the rest of the pile. "Lumara, try helping Thetis. Dimitri and I can finish these last ones."

Lumara nods, hurrying over to help the blonde. Thetis smiles, grabbing under the arms of another outlier - their face is too slashed apart for Lumara to see who it is. She feels queasy. "Here, let's get this over and then we'll be finished. We get to explore today - and we only have to find the last six before we're finished. Doesn't that sound great?"

"Yeah, that's insane." The girls grunt with effort before lifting the body onto another, completing the pile of fourteen bodies.

Nine more to go.

They all just stand around for a minute or so after, feeling too awkward to say anything. No one really knows how to react now, with Dimitri and Lumara in the alliance and with two of their number dead. But no one's made a move to push each other out - after the resounding success of the bloodbath, they're all confident that they'll do well.

Yes, they can work well as a team. Now they just have to get rid of a few more tributes, and they'll be the last ones left.

"So, should we head outside?" Triton finally asks, looking around the circle at the rest of the careers. "It would be best if we just start to hunt the other tributes now, so we don't let them get too far away. They have, what, a headstart of about half an hour?"

"But the arena is only so large, after all. I think we should explore this place, first - if we figure out what's inside, we can get all of our resources in one tidy spot." Lumara looks around the circle, her face defiant. She doesn't want to go out into the arena yet, not when they haven't done _anything_ in here.

Dimitri looks confused, but Triton and Thetis give each other a look before Triton nods reluctantly. "...Fine. Maybe we'll find something in here, after all."

Lumara smiles. She's gotten her way.

They head out in a group of three, Thetis remaining behind at the cornucopia to make sure that the outliers don't get into their supplies. She had volunteered to do so - probably because she and Triton don't trust their allies fully yet. But Lumara doesn't mind that - right now, they're listening to her. They're treating her as a part of the team.

She could win.

Triton is the first to head up the stairs and gives a cry of delight when he gets to the top. "There's a whole ski lift up her and everything! There's skis, there are snowboards, there's everything we need to make it through the snow! We're going to do _so_ well with these - I'm sure that the other tributes won't find anything like this."

It's Dimitri who spots the ski cabin, a few hundred metres away from the chalet, that's nestled into the mountain. From the large logo with a pair of skis painted in the middle, the words 'Capitol Skis' emblazoned in bright red letters, they all know that it's a place where other tributes can get skis and equipment to venture into the arena - and the ski lift that Triton had seen is right next to it. Whatever lead that they thought they had on the outliers is gone for sure, especially if they've all put their differences aside long enough to get outfitted with a pair of skis and head into the arena.

But as they get their skis on and head downstairs to tell Thetis of their discovery, Lumara feels like she's finally keeping pace with everyone else here.

 **.oOo.**

Yes, he has to be careful.

 **.oOo.**

 **Gilbert Dongalls, 15**  
 **District Six Male**  
 **0 Kills**

He still can't believe that he's here.

He had ran in the bloodbath: ran, and tried to get out from one of the doors. There had been a pack next to his plate that was just close enough for him to grab, and that had been it. He hadn't known what to do when he had seen the barricades over the doors. He had frozen, he had stared at the doors as the girl from Five got out and Calaeno was killed - oh, Calaeno's dead, they're dead and gone and now he has no one that he knows left here. He misses them. He misses them a lot.

When he had seen them get killed, he felt like he couldn't move a muscle. He just closed his eyes and prayed that the boy from Four would make his death quick, that he wouldn't make it painful.

But when the boy from Four had left the door without even noticing Gil in the corner, Gil had ran out as well.

Now he's in the cabin, putting on ski-boots and skis so that he can get through the arena. Outside, it's just deep, deep snow where there aren't snow trails: if someone doesn't have skis or snowshoes, they won't make it very far. So he came in here to check to see if there were any skis that he could fit on and use to move through the arena - instead, he had come across the girl from Five, clipping on one last ski before noticing Gil.

And then she had left, and now's he's here with the skis that the game makers had made for _him_. There are signs above twenty-four cubbies in here, one for every tribute: D1F, D3M, D6F, the list goes on and on all the way to the skis for the girl from Twelve. Most of them won't be touched - so many people had died in the bloodbath that he had lost count.

He clips on the last ski and looks down at the red and white pair: they're long and thin, but strong. He wouldn't break them unless he did something _really_ stupid.

Right now, Gil doesn't want to do anything stupid. He wants to live.

To live! He hadn't thought that he would think that when he got in here: no, he had thought that he wouldn't think anything at all. Once he got into the arena, Gil had expected to die in hte bloodbath first. Like Tony. Like what Gil deserved.

But he's still here.

Gil grabs the bag that's labelled with his name, where he's stuffed the boots he had first been wearing. Now he has two bags to look after: both carrying items he needs to survive in the Games. The ski boots aren't designed for deep snow, and this is the only food he might have in the arena.

Yes, he has to be careful.

Grabbing his ski-poles, he heads out of the door and up.

Then promptly falls down. It's harder to use these skis than he had originally thought.

But as he keeps moving forward, keeps getting back up, he sees the ski-lift: dozens of large seats, suspended below the cable by thick wires, all travelling up and down the mountain. One comes closer to him, and he scrambles to sit down so he can be taken to the very top. He can get to the top of the mountain in this. He can find a place to hide.

He can live up there.

And the most surprising thing of all: he _wants_ to live.

 **.oOo.**

Without Cody, she might be dead by now.

 **.oOo.**

 **Bayleigh Mountainson, 12**  
 **District Ten Female**  
 **0 Kills**

She hides in the snow until the boy from Six passes her and heads to the ski-lift, sitting down in one of the seats and being whisked away like he's on a conveyer belt. Then she darts into the ski-house, putting on her skis quickly and running back out as quickly as she can. It's hard to move in the skis, but she's starting to figure it out - just well enough to stumble her way onto one of the seats as it rises up the mountain.

Bayleigh shivers - the wind is cold on her face, and she only has a small red hat that she had found in the ski-house. She's happy that she saw it - the raised red letters that declared the building to be a place for 'Capitol Skis!' and she had ran there as fast as she can. But when she saw that someone else was inside, she had hid until he left.

She doesn't want to make a mistake that she'll regret.

And now she's almost to the ski-lift, continuing to slide on the groomed trail at the bottom of the mountain. It's huge, vast expanses of pine trees dotting the peak as little trails of white curve in and out of the forests. If someone doesn't have skis, it'll be hard for them to get through here - although they can always find a place to hide at the top of the mountain until they have a chance to get skis themselves.

At least she has them.

 _Boom!_ The first cannon echoes throughout the arena, and Bayleigh shivers. One of those is Cody - she still can't believe that he's dead. She hadn't realized what he had done until he was dead, but he had saved her. He had stopped the others from killing her.

Without Cody, she might be dead by now.

A stubborn tear starts to fall from her eye and traces down her cheek, the wind blowing it away. Bayleigh puts a hand to her cheek, but the trail is half-frozen - it must be cold out here.

Maybe there'll be shelter at the top of the mountain.

As the ski-lift continues to swing around the bottom, the cable turning around on the line to head back up the mountain, Bayleigh tries to sit down on one of the seats. But the momentum knocks her away, pushing her into the snow where she's treated to a cold face and the loss of her hat. After putting the hat back on, she tries again - this time miming a sitting motion in mid-air so the seat won't knock her forward like last time.

It works.

The seat is polished as clean as it can possibly be, and Bayleigh pats the metal absently. The lift moves up the mountain at a quick pace, and she holds onto both sides of the seat so that she won't fall off. She feels comfortable for now, but she's scared that a nasty gust of wind might knock her into the snow and all the way back down the mountain. She doesn't want that to happen.

She doesn't need that to happen.

But she makes it to the top, and jumps off just before the seat whirls around and heads down the mountain again. Clutching her ski-poles, she looks around - already there are ski trails, heading off in several different directions, and she sees a trail of footprints heading in yet another direction. Tributes have made it here before her.

She takes a large way down, falling several times but always getting back up. She's being careful to not hurt herself - if she breaks a leg on the slopes, she'll be stuck there until the careers find her and finish her off.

But when Bayleigh finds the little cabin in the woods, smoke slowly drifting up and above the pines, she knows that she's found a place to hide.

 **.oOo.**

He should be easier on them.

 **.oOo.**

 **Dimitri Muller, 16**  
 **District Two Male**  
 **1 Kill**

"Who do you think killed Frosty?" Triton asks as they move towards the ski lift, his breaths being let out in large, frosty clouds. "Is there anyone out there who could have possibly killed her?"

"Eh," Dimitri replies. "Probably a strong outlier - maybe they're dead in the bloodbath. That's our best bet."

He doesn't know who killed Frosty - she did volunteer and mark herself up for death from the gods, after all, but he's not as sure what he feels about volunteers anymore.

After all, he's working with them, isn't he?

They continue towards the lift, Lumara struggling behind them. "Wait up!" she cries as she pushes forward with the skis, and Triton falls into the snow as he looks back to see how she's faring. "I can't keep pace with your large legs!"

Dimitri lets out a bark of a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. He likes the girl - she's opinionated, spoiled, and half out of her mind, but she's strong.

It doesn't hurt that it's easier on his conscience to like her.

The three finally get to the ski lift and clamber onto one of the chairs, Lumara nearly tumbling off of the seat. But the boys grab her arms and hold her upright, all of them travelling up the slope and to the top of the mountain.

"Hold on!" Triton laughs as Lumara clutches the back of the seat with both hands - her ski poles nearly taking his eye out. "We can't lose you this soon into the Games - although it's further along than it feels."

"Ten left," Lumara murmurs as the chair climbs up to the top of the mountain. "And then it'll be just us."

"That's right," Triton replies, and Dimitri bristles. What right do they have to claim places in the finale? That's for the gods to decide, not for the tributes. They can't just go around, claiming that they deserve spots in the finale.

Then again, they don't know any better. They don't know about the gods, they don't know what he knows.

He should be easier on them.

His body relaxes with the thought, and he gives a small smile. It would be easier if he gives them the benefit of the doubt, that if they knew who the gods were they wouldn't do what they do.

Yes, he'll be kinder to them. Perhaps that's what the gods want - maybe that's why he's thinking that right now.

He likes this idea.

They quickly reach the top of the mountain and look around, noticing the several different ski trails that head into the forest. Triton and Dimitri both look at one another, indecisive, but Lumara picks a trail and whisks down it. "Hurry up, you two! We have to get to the bottom!"

And they laugh as they whisk down, knowing that they're moving too fast to stop and properly search. Lumara almost has a spectacular collision with a tree, and Triton faceplants after flying over a set of bumps in what was otherwise a lovely, smooth hill, but they make it down.

They're having fun.

And they'll keep searching.

 **Yes, I hate non-death chapters after the bloodbath. Unfortunately, everyone's spreading too far out for that to happen. Hence, you have this.**

 **A handy list for you (and me)**

 **Have skis: Dimitri, Thetis, Triton, Lumara, Audra, Gilbert, Bayleigh**

 **No skis: Ellington, Birchwood, Chase**

 **Enjoy. I'll see you tomorrow with another chapter! Until then, TheAmazingJAJ**


	25. Bad Guy

It is day three, after all, and there are only ten tributes left.

All dead in the bloodbath.

 **.oOo.**

 **Audra Zimanski, 16**  
 **District Five Female**  
 **1 Kill**

Here she is again, at the top of the mountain where she can see and hear everything that goes on in the arena.

And everyone in the arena can see her from here.

She feels for her pack protectively, making sure that the contents are still in place. She asked for subtle weapons from the game makers, promising them a show if she got close to any of the other tributes and, therefore, had a chance to dispatch them.

She hasn't yet. But she has plenty of time.

Audra flies down the mountain on a side slope, whooping like a madwoman as she soars through the pines. Even if she meets a career, she's moving too fast for them to stop her - and she saw them head into the mountain the other side of the arena a few minutes ago. She'll be safe.

Maybe she should be quieter, though. She doesn't know how many tributes are in these parts - although there aren't many left. It is day three, after all, and there are only ten tributes left.

All dead in the bloodbath.

Before she reaches the bottom of the mountain, she comes to a halt on her skis - after much practicing and a lot of scrapes, she's figured out how to stop. She's had time to practice her skills on the skis - the careers have, strangely enough, never come across her, and she's only seen one other tribute in the arena close up. The boy from Eight had no skis, but he did have a snowboard - something that he had been failing to ride on the second day in the arena.

Maybe he'll have gotten the hang of it by now.

She takes off the skis and puts them under her arm - they're easy to carry, and the ski poles strap easily to them. It's easy to move through the arena with these. Now, she just has to take off the skinny, small ski boots and put on the thick winter boots, made of some insulating fabric that she doesn't know the name of, so she can head into the woods.

She's looking for a cabin to sleep in.

She snaps off a stray tree branch, covered with bushy pine needles, and drags it behind her tracks. On second thought, she should have skied through this area - it would be easier to cover thin lines of ski tracks than the holes that her boots leave in the snow as her bodyweight sends her through the crust. It's cold, as well. Her boots are starting to fill with snow in a few minutes, and she feels the snow start to melt into moisture that will soak her socks through.

But here, she's almost at the tiny cabin. They won't find her here. Well, they shouldn't - considering that the arena has these scattered all over the mountainside, they'll hopefully start searching the other cabins first.

But she only means to stay here for a few hours. Just to rest, like she has in the other cabins she's hidden in throughout her time in the arena.

She quickly picks the lock with the hairpin that she asked to be left in the bag, and steps into the cabin. It's warm, as always, and she takes the blanket that's always in the corner before wrapping herself in purple and blue and falling into blissful, blissful sleep.

Two hours later, Audra wakes up to the beeping of a sponsor gift. Inside is a small dinner of chicken - she _never_ has chicken back at home - and buttery peas. She relishes every bite, blowing a kiss to the cameras for whatever sponsor sent that for her.

Then, she takes the metal bowl that's under the small kitchen counter, fills it with coals from the fire that always burns in every cabin, then sets it all up on a tiny, thin stand. She places it in front of the only door inside the cabin, leaving the fluffy, dry carpet right in front of it. If anyone gets to the cabin too soon for her liking, they'll have to deal with it burning down.

She leaves through a window, off to her next destination.

 **.oOo.**

But that's enough worrying for now.

 **.oOo.**

 **Triton Clifford, 17**  
 **District Four Male**  
 **3 Kills**

It's his turn today to guard the cornucopia, and he waves goodbye to the other careers as they ski into the distance and away from the chalet. They haven't used the ski lift often, first making sure that the surrounding hills are free of tributes before venturing upwards.

Soon, they'll have to change that strategy. After all, it's the third day, and they haven't found a tribute since the bloodbath.

Triton closes the door. He walks back to the cornucopia and sits down, gathering a few crates of supplies around himself. He wants to sort this all today.

It'll keep him busy.

It's easy to sort the food together, piling the packets in one crate and any other edibles in a second. He stores it all in the back of the cornucopia, filling up a few backpacks with food-shaped objects and leaving them strewn around the cornucopia. It looks messy, but if anyone comes into the cornucopia all they'll have the courage to do is grab something and run.

It'll be easier if he makes those things essentially useless.

Half an hour later, he's still sorting all of the weapons into neat piles at the back of the cornucopia when he hears a… a sort of squealing outside. He peers around the edge of the cornucopia, wondering what it could be, and sees a _rabbit_ of all things.

A rabbit! They barely have any meat left in their provisions, and the sponsor gifts bring more weapons and water than food. If they take advantage of this right now, they could have a delicious stew for supper.

He grabs his trident and runs after the rabbit as fast as he can, trying not to scream and startle it before he has a chance to kill it. A vague voice in the back of his mind warns him that it won't work, that he should set up a snare or something to lure it in and ensure it's caught, but he ignores it. He's going to catch it the way a tribute from Four would. That is, he has no idea how to catch it. So he'll throw the trident at it.

The trident misses by inches, and the rabbit disappears into the snow. A chagrined Triton realizes that its fur is a mottled shade of white and grey. It must be to properly blend it in with the snow and to let itself camouflage easily in the arena: it would be hard for any tributes to find it unless it came right up to them.

But that's enough worrying for now. He tugs the trident out of the snowbank that it's stuck in, then walks back to the cornucopia. He had things to do, things to sort, and cannons to listen for. Oh, he hopes that there's a cannon soon - he wants to get this over with quickly.

He doesn't want to wait until the game makers get fed up with the careers and start sending mutts after _them_.

Triton shakes the thought away with a turn of his head, paying attention to the rest of the supplies instead. He has things to do, things to sort. He can't worry about what the careers are doing right now, although he hopes that they're alright.

He hopes that _he'll_ be alright.

But then, he hears an unmistakably recognizable sound: a cannon's echo pierces the silence of the chalet.

 **.oOo.**

So he'll stay here instead.

 **.oOo.**

 **Chase Farlay, 16**  
 **District Eight Male**  
 **1 Kill**

He's tired.

Chase wipes the sweat off of his brow and peels off the goggles that he's been wearing to keep the snow off of his eyes. The large, plastic goggles hang on his neck from the rubber band that makes them so easy to carry around. They're covered with snow, so he wipes it off with his glove and puts them back on.

Thank goodness they're tinted, or else he'd be blind from the sun by now.

He shivers in the cool, frosty air - his jacket and pants are completely soaked through from the past few days, and it doesn't help that he's tried sleeping outside for the past few nights. The only reason he hasn't gotten hypothermic or worse is because of the little cabin in the woods - he had walked inside, locked the door, then let his clothes dry by the fire while sleeping the sleep of the dead yesterday. Of course, he left early - he didn't want to stay the night in a place where the careers could find him, especially when he doesn't know where they are.

He doesn't know where _anyone_ is.

But last night had been hard to sleep for Chase. It wasn't because of the temperature - the nights were blessedly warm here. No, it was too wet to get a good sleep.

So he'll have to change that.

He unclips his boots from the snowboard and puts it under his arm, walking slowly into the forest and away from the groomed trails. He's gotten better at maneuvering through the area on this board - the first day, he had spent half of his time on his back or face from falling all of the time. He's gotten better now, but he doesn't want to use it in the forest. There isn't enough of an incline for it to work well, and he doesn't want to take it off when he's knee-deep in snow.

Five minutes into his walk, he stops and looks around. Large, bushy pines surround him on every angle, with little bushes that are clear of the leaves that they bear in the fall intertwining amongst the trees. They're small, but sturdy - he'll be able to build a shelter out here for himself. With all of the cabins around the arena, the last place tributes will look for each other is in the deep woods itself.

So he'll stay here instead.

The first thing he does is clear an area on the ground of the snow. Between the two pines, chosen for the little nooks and branches that he can use to create a capable shelter, he's able to push as much snow as he can away from the area where he'll build the shelter and in large mounds that surround the clearing. It's quite noticeable, but it'll hopefully blend in with the rest of the forest's bumps and hills.

He just has to hope that the careers don't come too close. And they shouldn't - he made sure to head to a place that he couldn't see the trails through the forest from before building. And if they do find him…

He has his axe.

He reaches for the axe that he's propped up against the first pine tree, giving it a little swing through the air. He had found it in the cabin, next to the firewood that fueled the tiny fire. Instead of leaving it there, where other tributes could find and use it against _him_ , he had taken it for himself.

After an hour, he has himself a sturdy frame of logs from the surrounding forest. It'll take a while, but he'll have a roof soon enough.

And then, he can get coals from the cabin he had found to start himself a fire.

 **.oOo.**

She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't want to do this. She hates this. She hates this.

 **.oOo.**

 **Ellington Lockwood, 18**  
 **District Nine Female**  
 **0 Kills**

She's still in this small, tiny cabin, hoping that no one will find her in it. After all, she's seen at least three others like it in the arena so far - she's slept and hidden in them all.

There _was_ the one cabin that had a bowl of coals right in front of the door, which she had promptly thrown back into the fire and winced as she burned her fingers. She's thankful that she didn't enter through the only door inside - after failing to open the door of the first cabin that she had come across, Elle's taken to crawling in through a back window before latching it shut. It's worked every time, and it prevented that cabin, painted in bright gold, from going up in flames. That's something else that she's noticed: every cabin has been painted in a different colour. Red, gold, green, blue, they're all varying shades of different colours.

Perhaps it's for variety.

She's still surprised she hasn't been _found_ by any of the other tributes. She hasn't made much of an attempt to hide herself from them - she's relied on the fact that the arena is too big and there are too few tributes for anyone to find and kill her.

It's worked, so far, but she's had close calls - she saw the careers at the bottom of the mountain the other day, and took the second ski lift to the other side of the arena so she wouldn't be found by them. Now, she only stays on the side of the mountain that doesn't house the chalet where the careers are set up. She'd try to get further away from them all, but there's a river just beyond the bottom of the mountain that looks like it's freezing, and she can't find a boat. She'll never risk it.

She drifts off to sleep as she tries to think of a way to get across the river without getting herself wet, waking up sometime in the morning of the third day. It's surprising how long she sleeps here - she's too exhausted to sleep any less.

Hopefully, it doesn't hurt her in the end.

But as she yawns and gets up from the couch, still entangled in the blankets that she had found under the couch, there's a knock on the door.

Elli freezes, waiting to hear if they continue to knock. When she hears the knock again, she edges towards the fireplace. She knows that there's an axe there…

"Hello?" a boy's voice - well, it sounds more like a man's - calls gruffly. "Anyone in here?"

Elli grabs the axe, then backs away. She doesn't know if she can kill, she doesn't know what to do. She can't go out the back without making noise, and he'll see her footprints. She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't want to do this. She hates this. She hates this.

The voices are whispering in her ears, telling her to throw the axe. They only get louder and louder as the knocking continues, and the doorknob finally turns.

She throws the axe, not knowing if she meant to do that or if she's too afraid of the voices to stop, and it hurtles towards the boy from Seven. Instead of glancing off of him and into the floor, it sinks into his chest and stays there. She's thrown it hard enough to embed it in his chest.

Where all of his vital organs are.

The boy looks down, confused, then yells from the pain. Already his shirt is turning crimson from the blood that started with just a trickle, and he clutches the wound. "Why did you do that?"

"I-I-I don't know," Elli stammers. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry - I'm sorry -"

She grabs the axe and pulls it out of his chest, stumbling backwards before tripping on the carpet and letting the axe fly. It hits a window with a smash, and the boy stumbles towards it. "I - I don't know what to - I don't know."

He tries to crawl through the window, after the axe, but slumps down in the middle of the broken window frame. Elli can feel herself sobbing, and she tries to push herself off of the floor. The boy is dying, but it's taking him so long to. It's taking so long…

Full on crying now, she stumbles outside and grabs the axe. It's easy to spot from the bloody imprint in the snow, and she takes it back to the boy. "I'm sorry -"

She has to make the pain stop, the voices whisper. Make it stop, make it stop, _make him stop_.

Slowly, hesitantly, she brings the tip of the blade to his neck and prepares to swing. She can't do it. She can't do it.

She doesn't know how.

A minute later, she hears the cannon through her tears.

 **Our first arena death!**

 **10th: Birchwood Mason, District Seven Male; Killed by Ellington Lockwood. Created by santiagoponcini20.**

Birchwood was one of the quiet, dull tributes who didn't do too much or impact many things. He was an entertaining guy, but the fact that he was a bit dim and wasn't the most subtle of people meant that Elli was ready to fight him when he came close. He was fun to write, though! Thanks to Santiago for another guy I got to kill - he probably should have died in the bloodbath, but he got this instead. I hope that's alright!

 **Eight more to go! Who'll be the next to die? Any predictions? Share your thoughts!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	26. Lonely

But nothing's happened yet.

 **.oOo.**

 **Bayleigh Mountainson, 12**  
 **District Ten Female**  
 **0 Kills**

She's holed up in another one of the cabins that dot the mountain, huddling inside with a blanket around her shoulders. There must be dozens of these, considering that she's found a new one every day on this side of the mountain.

And it's the fifth day.

She shudders when she remembers that there are still eight other tributes out in the arena, ready to fight her to the death - she thought that more of them would be dead by now. Perhaps most of the Hunger Games dragged on for weeks on end instead of wrapping up for only a few days. Maybe that was the reasoning behind the name.

Well, she'll stay in this house that's painted a shade of forest green until it's nearly evening. Then, she'll see about finding somewhere else to hide.

The couch is comfortable to sleep on, and Bayleigh stretches back out on it. Her mentor must have been wrong about not acting in the Games - although she's done nothing but hide and hope that no one's found her, no beasts or tributes have chased after her. Cody had said something about that as well - he had said that if they didn't act for the cameras, they'd be forced to play along through getting chased by things called mutts and such.

But nothing's happened yet.

Oh well, she'll continue to stay here. After all, she has the rest of the day ahead of her - who's going to look for her when she's holed up in here? She knows that the careers are usually the ones who do the hunting - she learned _that_ much from watching broadcasts of the Games - but she allows herself to hope that they won't search very well.

Of course, she'll be proven wrong eventually. But it's nice to have hope.

A stray spark, too far from the fireplace to survive on its own, lazily drifts downwards and onto the blanket that Bayleigh's sitting on. She yelps and tries to beat it out with her hands, but it's too small to have made a difference. It fades away, leaving the blanket unscathed. It's as if it was never there to begin with.

But the roaring fire, only getting larger, is all too real.

"How?" are the only words Bayleigh can muster when she sees the fire. "How did it get out?" It's a good question, indeed - somehow, the fire's leapt across the room and is devouring the pile of firewood in the corner. Flames lick at the curtains of the cabin, and a few greedy sparks fly towards the cabinets. The house is burning. The house is burning.

She has to get out.

She grabs the blanket and wraps it around her head, coughing like mad from the smoke. It's gotten so smokey in here in just a few minutes, and she feels her way to the door. A white-hot pain sears her hand when she tries to open the doorknob, and she thrusts her fingers into her mouth to cool them. Sucking furiously, Bayleigh stares at the door. It's too hot to open.

At least, it's too hot with her bare hands.

After she's satisfied that the flesh hasn't melted off, Bayleigh wraps the blanket around her unburnt hands and tugs at the doorknob. It stays in place the first try, but she gives it a furious wrench before nearly falling out the door and into the snow. Snow! She sucks in the fresh, cool air that comes with the outdoors, stumbling away from the cabin. It's up in flames by now, and she can see the smoke billowing out of the chimney and through cracks in the window frame. A few more minutes, and it might have collapsed on her entirely.

It occurs to her that she's forgotten her skis and packs inside, but she doesn't mind. She's still alive, and she can always go to the other cabins to hide.

And for now, the fact that she's still breathing is all that matters.

 **.oOo.**

It won't be just a shelter for long, though - it'll be her home until the games are over.

Or until she's dead, of course.

 **.oOo.**

 **Audra Zimanski, 16**  
 **District Five Female**  
 **1 Kill**

The cabins are burning, and not because of her carefully placed bowls of disaster.

 _Interesting_.

Crouching in the snow, Audra watches one of the cabins go up in flames. It's painted a light shade of pink, the flame climbing up the side and causing the paint to brown as the wood structure begins to burn. Eventually, the house has had enough and collapses into the snow - the fire still raging as it searches for whatever is still salvageable in the cabins. Everything has to burn - until there's nothing left except the soot and smoke that remains.

At least the game makers don't feel like burning down the rest of the forest. She has plans for it, plans to build herself a shelter to live in for as long as she can here. Of course, she'll move around the arena on her skis still - she doesn't want to upset the game makers like the tributes already have. They wouldn't have burned down the cabins if the final nine were playing up to the expectations the Capitol had for them.

So for now, she'll build and wait. When she's finished, she'll take another trip down the slopes of the mountain.

Maybe she'll find someone else.

It would have been over with a lot more quickly if the arena was that much smaller, Audra reflects as she drags a young sapling back to the place where she's building the lean-to shelter. It won't be just a shelter for long, though - it'll be her home until the games are over.

Or until she's dead, of course.

But yes, the arena is too large to finish the games quickly. Adding the fact that so many died in the bloodbath, and it stretched it out to an inordinate degree. They could be here for weeks if nothing happened - exactly what the game makers _don't_ want. She knows that this must cost money, and every second of inaction will lose even more of that.

Yes, they want this over with as quickly as possible. So they'll get rid of all of the shelters, just to remind the tributes that if they don't do something, they'll be the next to burn.

No one wants that.

She deposits the sapling with the rest of her growing pile of logs, then turns back to get her axe. She had found one in a cabin next to the fireplace, and had taken it before anyone else had a chance to find it. She doesn't know how many of these there are, but she'll be holding onto it for as long as she can. This is a good, strong tool. She can live out here in the wilderness for a while when she uses it - as long as she doesn't do something stupid and slice her arm open.

No, she'll be careful. She wants to stay here for a long time, and she'll do what she needs to so she can. That's why she'll risk skiing, even when she doesn't know where the other tributes are. If she can entertain, she won't be targeted.

The young, flexible saplings fit well leaning against the fallen tree she had found in the middle of the woods, and she weaves branches of thick, bushy pine needles between them all. It's going to be cozy in here when she's finished - she just has to keep insulating the shelter, make the walls thick, then pack it up with snow.

When she's finished, she'll finally be able to rest. Of course, she'll go skiing, but she's looking forward to resting.

She's tired.

 **.oOo.**

Judging by the rest of the smoke trails in the sky, the same is happening to all of the other cabins inside of the arena.

 **.oOo.**

 **Ellington Lockwood, 18**  
 **District Nine Female**  
 **1 Kill**

She feels too tired to do anything else in the arena today.

The voices have subsided for once, and she just wants to go to sleep today. Something about killing that boy took something out of her - she feels like she's lost something that she can't find again, that she won't be able to get back.

Elli's stuck like this.

The smell of thick, bitter smoke has only gotten stronger, and she looks around the forest to see if she can spot what it is. She left her cabin today - she didn't want to look at the bloodstains any longer. Now, she's trudging around the arena, trying not to get snow in her boots by walking along the ski trails. Sure, she might be found by the careers, but she can always climb a tree and try to hide.

It might work.

Then, she spots it - the trail of smoke is coming from inside the forest. She frowns, peering through the foliage to see if she can see what's burning. Walking in further, she sees it - it's one of the cabins, burning in the middle of the forest. As she continues watching, the roof collapses inwards with a mighty crack and the cabin seems to crumple to the ground like a house of cards.

Judging by the rest of the smoke trails in the sky, the same is happening to all of the other cabins inside of the arena.

She huddles under the thick branches of the pine tree, pretending that this isn't happening. Are the rest of the cabins going to burn as this one did? Will there be no shelter left in the arena for anyone? Will they be trapped in a burning forest for the careers to pick off, one by one?

She doesn't like this. No, she doesn't like this at all.

But even stranger, she finds herself wanting to get a closer look.

 _You could have been in there_ , she hears the voices whisper to her as she starts to climb up the tree. And then they fade back into the usual babble of nothing, just a monotonous drone once more. She likes it better that way - she doesn't want to hear what else they have to say.

It's tough to climb up the pine tree. The branches are too thin to hold her weight properly, and more than once she finds herself about to fall because she's stepped on a too-small branch. But she clings onto the trunk of the tree until she finds thicker branches to climb upon, and sees the rest of the arena when she emerges from the branches and at the thin, swaying top of the tree.

For a second, she sees nothing but fire, raging fire that does nothing but devour everything in its path. But then she blinks, and notices that it's just another trick of her mind. No, it's only the cabins that are burning. Elli hadn't noticed it before, but each cabin's in a little clearing that makes it easy to burn without letting the rest of the arena to burst into flames. That's a good thing, even though the amount of snow that's in the arena would stop most of the trees from burning down.

She thinks.

Oh well, Elli's safe for now. For a while, she'll just sit up here and think for a while. Yeah, that'd be nice. She hasn't had a chance to properly think since before the Games - she's just been reacting to everything that's happened to her.

After the wind begins to blow once more and she's satisfied that her forest won't burn down, she starts to climb back down. She makes quick work of it, and gets to the bottom of the tree all too easily.

That's when she sees the careers.

 **.oOo.**

They're stuck trying to search for everyone in here, even if it takes them weeks.

 **.oOo.**

 **Dimitri Muller, 16**  
 **District Two Male**  
 **1 Kill**

They keep on skiing through the arena, pushing their ski poles through the crust of the snow to propel themselves even further. The three have been working so hard on searching the slopes that they haven't had a chance to properly breathe, and they fight not to collapse when they reach the bottom of the mountain. Dimitri heaves a sigh of relief when he's able to stand up once more, his legs still wobbly from fatigue. "You two alright after that?"

"I'm always ready to go," Thetis replies with a smirk. "I might not be the fastest of us all, but I can keep up with you two brutes."

Triton laughs, shaking his head in delight. "You two are enjoying this too much."

And they are - Dimitri loves getting the chance to push himself to the limit, to properly search through the arena and get the chance to do what the gods always wanted. Of course, his conscience is all too eager to remind him that he's working with those who've betrayed the gods, but he's found a way to successfully argue against that for now. After all, they have no idea who the gods are. How do they know what's wrong if they don't know what the rules are?

An even smaller voice likes to remind him that he uses that as a way to hide the fact that he actually _likes_ the careers, but he buries that in the deepest crevices of his mind. That's not something he has to think about for a while.

After the Games, maybe.

Triton wipes away sweat and looks back, to the trails of smoke that are just appearing above the forest. "Hey… you all see that too?"

"Let's check it out!" Thetis is gone before they have a chance to react, skiing furiously into the forest. "Come on, you two - where's all of your energy now?"

Dimitri laughs as he catches up with his district partner, skiing side by side with Triton. "One day, you'll be able to beat us out when we least expect it."

"Hopefully that won't happen until we get rid of everyone else," comments Triton. They're all silent after that, reflecting on the other six - well, five now - tributes that are hidden in the arena. They'd be easier to find in a smaller arena, but this is anything but that. They're stuck trying to search for everyone in here, even if it takes them weeks.

Thetis speeds ahead with a fresh burst of energy, grinning like a madwoman as she looks behind to see the two boys following her. "I smell the smoke now - it's so acrid and bitter and ugh! I wonder what tribute managed to get themselves into that mess."

"I guess..." Triton pauses when he reaches the clearing, and they stare at the burning heap of wood that used to be a cabin. One of the cabins, in fact, that they've been searching in for other tributes. "We won't find out."

"I suppose so," Dimitri manages weakly. They keep staring at the burning lumber, watching another section of what was once a fine wall cave in upon itself. It's not just a fire, and they all know that. It's a warning.

If they don't find tributes, and soon, they'll be the next to burn.

 **Another chapter!**

 **Thoughts on how our tributes will fare in the arena? Any guesses on the next death? Feel free to share!**

 **I hope you're all doing well on this Saturday. I'll see you soon with another chapter - perhaps it'll be a bit more action-filled than this one.**

 **Enjoy. Until next chapter, TheAmazingJAJ**


	27. Some Nights

After all, he's trying to do the same thing. He just knows how to do it right.

 **.oOo.**

 **Dimitri Muller, 16**  
 **District Two Male**  
 **1 Kill**

For a while, they just stand and stare at the burning cabin as it sinks further into oblivion. Triton is the first to step back, glancing over at Thetis with a warning look. She nods, looking a bit startled, and turns towards Dimitri. "You ready to search?"

Dimitri nods, feeling for the long sword that he keeps strapped to the back. The leather strap that holds it in place is just where he expects it to be, and he touches the steel just to make sure that it's still there. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's head to the top and look for someone."

"Of course. We'll search, then get back to Lumara." Triton finishes the conversation as he skis back out the forest, Thetis at his heels. Dimitri follows them both, watching the twins ski with one another. Although they've only met a week ago, they're comfortable with one another. Somewhere in the Capitol, they had evidently decided that they'd work together over the rest of the careers.

Thetis has agreed fully to whatever deal they have with one another. Dimitri can tell by the fact that she doesn't speak to him as she used to, preferring to stick close to her twin. But Triton is hesitant - there's something in him that's loyal to District Four, and he makes sure to keep Lumara in any conversation they have. His allegiance is to his twin - yet, he can't let go of District Four.

Dimitri admires that. He likes seeing someone who knows where his loyalties lie, even if he's divided. It's one of the reasons he kept with the careers after the bloodbath. He could have abandoned them - maybe he _should_ have, but he trusted Triton. Triton's trying to win in a way that he thinks the Games need to be done, and Dimitri knows how the boy from Four feels.

After all, he's trying to do the same thing. He just knows how to do it right.

They're out of the woods quickly, and Thetis jumps onto the first seat that swings around to head back up the mountain. The ski lift is still working, even if all of the cabins in the woods are burning down. That's a relief for them all. "You two coming, or what?"

"Right after you," Triton murmurs. He grabs a seat and hauls himself up onto it, Dimitri doing the same with a third. They all settle in and wait as they look for any signs of tributes. There's still the thick, billowing clouds of smoke that come from the cabins, but if they see any sign of life from the tributes…

 _Like that tiny, grey wisp of smoke that's coming from their right._

Dimitri kicks the back of Triton's seat, and the boy from Four yelps in surprise. "Look to your right," Dimitri hisses. "I don't know if the tribute's still there, but that's not a cabin."

"You're right," Triton whispers back. They're whispering for no discernable reason, but it feels safer. Maybe it's because they're so close to finding some tribute, to getting another chance to survive in the Games. This is their chance.

They don't want to waste it.

So instead of wasting their chance, they call to Thetis. And after she realizes what they're about to do, she nods. Then, the three leap off of the ski lift and into the forest below.

 **.oOo.**

He thought that it'd push it all away, that the fear of being hunted at every moment would make him the person he needs to be.

 **.oOo.**

 **Gilbert Dongalls, 15**  
 **District Six Male**  
 **0 Kills**

Gil's tired, so tired. He doesn't know what to do anymore, not when his food's starting to run low and the cabin, his only form of shelter in the arena, is gone. It's burnt down, and he only managed to get out because he had been _just_ alert enough to leave.

He knows that he got out, that he's still alive, that he has to calm down and _focus_ , but he wonders what would have happened if he hadn't moved until a few seconds later.

Maybe it would have been better for everyone.

After what feels like a long while, he straps on his skis, taking a long time to make sure that all of the bindings are still in place - though it's not really that, he just doesn't know what he's going to do after he starts moving. So instead of doing that, he's dragging out whatever task he can think of for himself as long as possible. It'll take a while, but that's what he wants.

It'll take his mind off of everything for a while. He hopes.

All too quickly, though, he's strapped on his skis, organized his packs and the items inside them, and made sure that the axe is in a position that won't kill him if he falls three times. It's time to move, back to the slopes.

So he starts skiing.

He's still rough around the edges when he tries to ski - he's never seen someone do it, so he pushed at his poles and tried to drag himself through the snow at the start. Soon enough, however, he figured out that it would be easiest if he used his legs to push through the snow when he wasn't on the hills, the poles used to balance him. He falls seldom, and faceplants even less.

If he wasn't in the Hunger Games, he might be proud of himself. But of course, he's in the Hunger Games.

And there's only nine others, here with him.

What would Doug think of him now? Would he be excited, hopeful that another tribute of his could win so soon after Isa? Or does he know better? Does he know that it's only a matter of time before Gil crashes, before Gil figures out a way to get himself killed before he can actually win?

Because no matter how he pictures it, Gil can't think of a way that he'll get out of the arena alive.

He shakes his head fiercely, surprised by the display of emotion even as he does it. He shouldn't think like that - he should be stronger than he is. After the bloodbath, he thought the arena would take away every demon he has. He thought that it'd push it all away, that the fear of being hunted at every moment would make him the person he needs to be.

But no, he's realized that it's not the moments of action he needs to worry about. It's when he has nothing but his thoughts to keep him company when he's most vulnerable.

That's when he knows that he's about to die.

 **.oOo.**

Oh well, he might as well be himself to the very end.

 **.oOo.**

 **Chase Farlay, 16**  
 **District Eight Male**  
 **1 Kill**

He keeps on stoking the fire with the firewood that he's been cutting off from trees around the clearing, tossing in smaller pieces of kindling to make sure that he doesn't kill it. He doesn't need that right now, he wants to keep warm. It's been getting steadily colder in the arena - the game makers are gearing up for something, and he doesn't want to be the one affected by it.

For now, he'll keep the fire going.

He rises to get some more firewood, knowing that his stockpile is getting a bit too low. He has no more food now, either, but he doesn't know what he'll do about that just yet. Maybe he'll make a snare. He saw rabbit tracks as he was walking through the woods to find this area to camp down in, and there's piles of round, fresh droppings wherever he walks. This place must be teeming with rabbits, and he's hungry.

Rabbit stew would be good for dinner.

It occurs to him that he should keep the fire low, just in case that other tributes find him and try to take his shelter and a warm fire, but he can't bring himself to do it. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to lose the fire just yet, but it's more because he's too stubborn to do it. People say that he makes reckless decisions for a reason, after all, and this is probably one of his worst yet.

Oh well, he might as well be himself to the very end. After all, who's going to look for his tiny fire when there's billowing clouds of smoke over the tops of the trees? He doesn't know why they're there, but it'll hopefully block out his own fire.

Maybe.

After taking his axe to a dead log, he piles the kindling in his arms and trudges back to the shelter. Ducking under the small door, he drops it all next to the fire. After a moment, he pushes it a bit away from the fire with a foot - it wouldn't be the best idea to let his shelter go up in flames because he was too lazy to move a few pieces of kindling. Instead, he stacks them in a neat pile and watches the flames.

The kindling seems to be a bit too big to properly catch on fire, although it's managing nicely so far. But the rest of the pile that he hasn't thrown in yet seem too large, too gangly to properly catch. He should cut them with his axe.

 _Wait, he left his axe at the dead log._

Chase leaps to his feet, the fire forgotten. He curses and sprints out of the shelter, running to get his axe. He doesn't know why he's moving so fast to get it, but he doesn't know where anyone else is in the arena and there's something in the back of his mind warning him that he'll lose it if he doesn't get it right now.

So he gets there as quickly as he can, and grasps it by the handle. The wood is polished and smooth, and he swings it through the frosty, crisp mountain air before wiping snow off of the blade. He doesn't want to rust it, after all.

Then, Chase walks back to the shelter. A jaunty tune, popular in his school, pops into his mind, and he begins to whistle it out loud. It's a pretty tune, and a bird of some kind pauses in its hurry to find food to sing it back to him. Chase smiles up at the bird, and it gives him another cry that sounds like the word "run!"

He ignores it - it's just a bird, after all - and walks back to his shelter. He keeps whistling the tune, grinning like he's on top of the world.

But then the tune dies on his lips, and his mouth drops open. It's like his heart has leapt into his throat when he sees what's into the shelter, and Chase fights back the urge to dry-heave onto the intruders.

"Welcome back," says Triton Clifford as he thrusts a trident into Chase's fire.

 **.oOo.**

This is their best shot.

 **.oOo.**

 **Triton Clifford, 17**  
 **District Four Male**  
 **3 Kills**

He pushes the trident into the fire, letting it dig under some of the bright-red and orange coals before pushing them out of the fire and at the boy from Eight. A shovel would have worked better, but enough coals leap into the air and hurl themselves at the boy for Triton to be satisfied. The boy blocks some with his axe, but a few hit his cheek and spin away, steaming as they sink into the snow.

The boy's cheek looks burnt from the impact, and Triton gives him a grin.

That turns out to be the wrong decision.

It's only because of Thetis that Triton doesn't lose his head right then and there: as the boy hurls the axe at Triton's neck with frightening speed, she throws herself at her twin and shoves him into the wall of the shelter. The axe bounces off of the wall and towards Dimitri, but the twins ignore their ally's cry of surprise as they try to get back up. They've managed to break the wall of the shelter with their impact.

"Get away!" the Eight yells at them, his face bright red. He looks frightened. But Thetis and Triton are back on their feet with weapons in their hand, and Dimitri follows suit after he checks to see that the wound that the axe's blade left on his arm isn't too deep. "Get out of here!"

When Triton's trident flies towards the boy's face, it's the Eight who flees instead.

They're all after him like a pack of hounds eager for the kill, Triton pausing only to grab his trident from the snow. The boy is fast, too fast for them to catch him with ease. They're left only the choice to play the game of endurance, where they try not to slow down until the boy falls or makes a crucial mistake. Either will work.

Dimitri and Thetis take the lead at the start, Thetis swinging her naginata - and barely missing, for that matter - at the boy's heels. But their speed begins to fade when the boy starts weaving through the trees, and Triton sees the agony on Thetis' face as she begins to flag. She waves them onwards, taking one last chance to get the kill by throwing her naginata at the boy's back.

It bounces off a tree instead. Just like that, it's only Dimitri and Triton chasing the boy from Eight.

"Get - get to the side," Dimitri manages to gasp as he keeps up with Triton's pace. The boy from Eight is moving too fast for them to properly catch up, so they're stuck trying to keep at his heels. It's practically impossible, and the fact that they're running through snow with heavy weapons in their arms only makes it harder. "I'll throw the sword - it won't work - it'll startle - then you'll try."

Triton nods slightly, and starts moving to the right. Almost immediately, he sees what Dimitri is planning - they're coming up on the slopes, and the boy from Eight will have to slow down to get over the bank and to where he can sprint down the hill. This is their best shot.

When the boy leaps onto the snowbank and claws his way up, legs churning as he rushes upwards, Dimitri throws his sword. Although he misses, it crashes into the snowbank just above the boy's head. The Eight pauses out of fright, turning to move up a different way, and Triton aims.

A second later, the trident flies through the air and away from the boy. For a moment, Triton realizes that it's not going in the direction of the boy - it's too far to the left now to hit the boy where he is.

Thankfully, however, the boy is moving to the left just as fast as the trident is.

When the trident pins the boy's right arm to the snow, he screams in pain and tries to wrench away. Blood is seeping from his shoulder, staining his light jacket as it continues its journey to the ground. Dimitri is on the boy quickly, grabbing his fallen sword and bringing it back to the boy.

The boy is screaming now, but Dimitri leans down and whispers something in his ear. It must have been calming, Triton thinks, because the boy from Eight sags in relief as Dimitri draws his sword and swings it as hard as he can.

"You did it!" Thetis screams when she catches up, and they all nod. The cannon is still ringing through the air, and they allow themselves a small smile before turning back to the forest. After all, they have to hurry back to the shelter to fetch their skis - something that they had hidden in a bank of snow so the boy wouldn't see.

This time, though, they won't run.

 **BEGINNING OF DOUBLE UPDATE - REMEMBER TO READ THE NEXT CHAPTER**

 **9th: Chase Farlay, District Eight Male; Killed by Dimitri Muller. Created by paperairline.**

Chase was a cool guy. He knew his strengths and weaknesses and was just generally very chill about it all - he did his thing, enjoyed himself, and had a good time when he could. It was his recklessness that did him in, getting him caught by the careers when he should have kept a lower profile. But now that he's gone, we're down to the final eight. He'll be missed for his generally happy spirit, and the fact that he nearly got away. Thank you, paper, for Tracks!

 **And that's it! Remember to read that next chapter, and have a good day.**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	28. I'm Like A Bird

**ATTENTION: THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE, REMEMBER TO READ THE LAST CHAPTER BEFORE THIS ONE!**

She doesn't want to do that again.

 **.oOo.**

 **Ellington Lockwood, 18**  
 **District Nine Female**  
 **1 Kill**

All too soon, the sixth night in the arena has passed and she feels like she doesn't know what to do.

Oh well, she's still here - and on the seventh day, for that matter. And Chase Farlay, the boy from District Eight, isn't.

Right now, her family will be conducting the final eight interviews with whatever pretty host they've decided to use. She remembers watching old final eight interviews with her family, frowning when she saw the grief in their eyes as they talked about their sibling or daughter or son or cousin or more. No one expected to see their own return home - well, no one but the careers, but the careers were like that. They expected everything to go their way, and when it didn't, they made it happen.

Elle wonders when she'll see the careers.

Who's left, anyway? Elle thinks back to that first night, when the faces of all of the dead tributes appeared in the sky. Fourteen in all, they were easy enough to remember - especially the ones who she had seen die. The tributes from One and Three, the boy from Five, and so on, all had surprised her.

Probably because she had expected to die in one of their places.

But no, she's still here. And she'll stay here for as long as she can - she wouldn't dream of doing anything else. She wants to win, she knows that she can win, she _can_ win if she just keeps resting when she needs to and running whenever she hears the slightest sound.

It might be the cowardly thing to do, but hey - she doesn't want to see someone like the boy from Seven again. She doesn't want to do that again.

Whenever she looks down at her hands, now, all she can see is bruises that cover her fingers and, worst of all, bloodstains. They won't come off, even when she tries scrubbing them in the snow. The snow stays as white as it was when it first fell, and her hands stay painted red.

So she won't look at them.

Elle gets up from her position in the snow, shivering a bit. She slept in a tree last night - a _tree!_ \- and her back screams in agony when she tries to get up and properly stretch, But she forces her body to follow her will, and she turns back to look into the forest.

Back to the slopes, where she can look for a new place to hide. Even if there isn't one, she'll try.

The world is green and white and gold today, the sun glinting off of the snow and turning the trunks of the pine trees into shimmering wonders. She can hardly look at anything, it's so bright that it blinds her. She read somewhere that if a person looks at snow for too long, they can go blind from the light reflecting so perfectly or whatnot, and she finally understands what they mean. She can't bear to keep staring down at the snow.

She keeps her gaze focused upwards, watching the top of the trees for any warning signs. There aren't any that she can make out. Whatever birds that are in the arena aren't in this area, and she can't hear anything else. Right now, only Elle is enjoying this winter wonderland.

She'll be careful, though. She doesn't want to see anyone else.

No one. Not the snow, not her hands, and certainly not any other tribute.

Maybe she'll be able to see more clearly tomorrow.

 **.oOo.**

It might not have been worth it to remove all of the slimy, horrible entrails inside of the rabbit, but the remainders taste fine enough.

 **.oOo.**

 **Audra Zimanski, 16**  
 **District Five Female**  
 **1 Kill**

Roasted rabbit, cooked over a fire of embers and glowing coals that Audra's worked to erase any trace of smoke from before it has a chance to reach the sky, tastes, oddly enough, just like chicken.

She loves it. Most of all, she loves the snare that she's set. She had asked for wire for a reason from the game makers - she had expected to use it as garotting wire, but it easily doubles as a trap. She'd spotted the rabbits a few days ago, and placed a small snare, nothing fancy, on one of their trails. After using the last of her food to attract the tiny critters, she found success a few hours ago when she spotted a rabbit in the throes of death. A rock to the head finished the job, and she skinned the rabbit as best as she could before getting around to gutting it.

It might not have been worth it to remove all of the slimy, horrible entrails inside of the rabbit, but the remainders taste fine enough.

She munches on another piece of roasted rabbit, staring up at the morning sky. It wasn't the breakfast she was planning - if she had to, she would have resorted to eating pine bark - but it's a welcome one nonetheless.

She'll just have to be careful. After all, she hasn't made it this far to go out next. There should be a cannon soon - it's Day Seven, after all, and there hasn't been a death in two days. People will be restless, feisty, ready to move around and do stupid things until they make one mistake that's too hard to recover from. There are wolves in these mountains, she's heard them howling on the long nights when no one but the frightened and the wary are awake.

No, she won't die so soon. She has too much to do.

It's strange to be here, all alone. Audra had expected an arena where she'd be able to interact with _people_ , to get a chance to manipulate and talk and twist them around until she could flee, leaving only a dead body and a small needle prick between their toes. That's what she had expected, what she had prepared for. In an arena like that, she would have won easily.

But now? She doesn't know. There are the tributes who are alone and frightened and likely willing to take on an ally, even this late into the Games, just to have some company. But those are few and far between, and the rest are the careers and the outliers who mean business - the ones who are like her. Too many had died in the bloodbath for her to play a capable social game, so she had buckled down on the first day and prepared to survive.

Is this survival? Or is she thriving in this world where life can be snatched away with a loop of wire, a piece of steel, a rock to the head? She doesn't know, but she feels at peace here - she feels at home.

She might not be able to play to her strengths, but she has one last trick up her sleeve - she's adapted to the situation.

And that, in the end, could be the reason she gets home instead of the seven others here.

 **.oOo.**

But when she's gathered her strength, when she's ready to try again, she'll find a new place to hide.

 **.oOo.**

 **Bayleigh Mountainson, 12**  
 **District Ten Female**  
 **1 Kill**

She's cold, and tired, and lost, and scared, and a million other things that she can't be bothered to name because she wants to go home.

But no, she's still in this bad dream with no way out. She doesn't know what to do anymore - all of her willpower ran out sometime yesterday when she slept in the cold because all of the cabins had burnt down. She's not sure, but she thinks that her lungs are burnt from the smoke and whatnot - they ache whenever she tries to breathe, and she's coughing whenever she moves at a pace even slightly faster than a turtle.

Maybe she just has a bad cold. But Bayleigh knows that even if it is, that still spells disaster - the careers are out there, looking for _her_ , and anything that can slow her down will mean that she's a bigger target.

Today, she has to find a place to hide. If not, she'll be the next to die.

She's been walking alongside the slopes for a while, and only now she tries to jump at a seat on the ski lift to take her down the hill and away from here. Right now, she doesn't care if the careers are there. If she's lucky, they won't notice her until it's too late. The seats can be awfully high as they head back up the hill, after all - yet they're quite low as they make their way down, just low enough for her to try to grab them.

Her first attempt fails, of course, and she falls into the snow with a cry of surprise. Pushing herself back up, Bayleigh grits her teeth and tries again. This time, her efforts are met with the breath being knocked out of her lungs as the seat swings into her stomach.

But she holds on, and the little bit of strength left in her lets her pull herself up and fall down, gasping, onto the cold, metallic seat.

For now, she'll ride. But when she's gathered her strength, when she's ready to try again, she'll find a new place to hide.

She's not looking forward to that. But at least she has a chance to catch her breath, to feel safe, to know that she's moving and getting _somewhere_.

She doesn't feel as useless right now.

The ski lift is still moving like clockwork, and Bayleigh musters up the willpower to look back up at the forest around her. The ski trails still weave through the mountains like stray threads that are pulled out of the top of the mountain, and the forest is dark green with the evergreen trees that never die. But she can see the ashes of what once were cabins, grimacing when she sees the one that _she_ had gotten out of.

A few minutes more, and she'd be some of those ashes.

The ski lift is nothing if it's not efficient, and she soon reaches the bottom of the ski slope. The chalet is only a few feet away, and she shivers as she looks through the glass windows to see if there are any of the careers in there. Hopefully, they're all hunting for tributes - and failing, for that matter.

When she can see a girl inside of the cornucopia, rooting around for something inside, Bayleigh hunches into the seat as if she can sink into it. She hopes that they won't see her - please don't let the careers see her, she begs the game makers silently, but the seat soon turns around on the mechanism that keeps turning the wire. Ever so slowly, it moves back around before turning Bayleigh's seat back to the top of the mountain.

She's safe. She's safe. She's safe.

Well, she should be. But when she hears the trident whistle through the air and _towards her_ , Bayleigh's not so sure of that.

 **.oOo.**

They're going hunting this afternoon, and she's excited.

 **.oOo.**

 **Lumara Barrett, 15**  
 **District Four Female**  
 **1 Kill**

Lumara curses when the trident misses the girl. Of course it had, her seat had been heading up the mountain and away from where she had aimed. Instead, it hits another seat with a satisfying crunch before falling into the snow. Lumara trots out of the door to go get it, digging around in the snow to make sure that she's found the golden weapon before hurrying back to the cornucopia. After all, she'll be switching shifts with another one of the careers today.

They're going hunting this afternoon, and she's excited.

She had been upset when she discovered that the careers had killed someone - _without her_ \- but accepted it after giving herself a moment to cool down. Lumara knows that the careers are still a bit uneasy around herself and her temper - she's still uncomfortable around _them_ \- but they're learning to get along, and she'll prove herself to them eventually. She just needs a chance to do so.

Just one chance.

The girl from Ten must be halfway up the mountain, far away from where the careers are heading. Lumara sighs, but doesn't do anything to chase after her. She has no idea where the other tributes are, and her one job right now is to guard the cornucopia. They can't afford to lose their supplies, even just a few, when there's still four strong tributes in the arena.

Other than the career pack, of course. But soon enough, there'll be more of the careers than the outliers.

They'll see. And she'll be right along with them, knowing that this is her chance to win the Hunger Games and get back home. As a warrior. As someone braver than she is.

As a career.

She settles back in the bed she's made out of pillows and crates in the cornucopia, waiting for her three alliance members to get back to the cornucopia. Soon enough, they trot in with sweaty faces and weapons in hand. Lumara waves, giving them a half-smile. "So, who's staying here this time?"

Thetis and Triton look at one another, trying to mentally communicate whose turn it is to guard the cornucopia. Surprisingly, it's Dimitri who steps forward before they have a chance to say anything. "I'll take a shift here - you three can tackle the main slope today. I have a feeling that someone's going be there today."

Triton nods tersely, grabbing a cloth to rub on his face. One rough scrubbing later, he throws away the cloth and looks at the pile of food at the back of the cornucopia. "Anything for lunch today, Lumara?"

Lumara grins, gesturing to three plates that she's stocked up with dried jerky, small containers of meat stew - a sponsor gift for killing the boy from Eight - and orange slices. "All for you three. I already ate, so I'll be alright. Dig in!"

The others do, quickly finishing the meal. They munch on the meat stew, Dimitri finishing his portion efficiently while Triton and Thetis linger on their own, just a minute, to appreciate the taste of it all. It occurs to Lumara that she had the chance to poison their meal and get rid of three competitors, just like that, but she's too nervous to try anything of the sort. She's not very good with poisons - not yet, at least. If she put too little or too much in one of the meals, she might be dead right after them all.

She doesn't want to be dead in the final eight because she got too hasty.

After all, they're keeping her alive. Without them, it would be just her and the four other tributes in the arena.

She prefers having the company for now.

 **A quieter chapter, but we're gearing ourselves for quite a ride soon. Are you ready?**

 **Thoughts, concerns, ideas? Share them in a review! Thank you to those still reading, y'all are awesome.**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	29. Rolling In The Deep

And then, to everyone's surprise, they see a figure on the hill below.

 **.oOo.**

 **Triton Clifford, 17**  
 **District Four Male**  
 **3 Kills**

Triton skis quickly up the hill, noticing how still everything is today. It's been getting colder steadily in the arena, and the snow is only getting crisper and crisper.

He wonders if they'll find someone on the hill today.

They used the ski lift at first, but Thetis and Triton had leapt off at once when they saw one of the tributes leap off at the top of the hill and run into the forest. Unfortunately, skiing uphill proved to be slower than running downhill in snow, and they had lost her quickly. They still had her footprints, of course, but there were more and more footprints every day.

And it was starting to snow - soon enough, the footprints would disappear and everything would blur into white. For now, they had to check the hill one last time before they tried to get themselves lost in the woods.

"Are you _sure_ this is the right idea?" Lumara groans as they trudge through the snow, looking for others in the arena. "We should go back at this point - the snow's going to be too deep to properly move through and we'll be stuck. If we wait out the storm, we'll have a better chance at finding fresh prints and -"

"No, we're searching." There's something in Thetis' tone that finishes the brewing argument before it has a chance to start, and they keep moving through the snow. The storm gets lighter and lighter, and soon they're only moving through a few stray snowflakes that blow away on the wind. It's quite strong today, but Triton likes it that way. When the wind is at his back, it's easier to move through the drifts.

The sky is a bright blue now, the sun beating down on them all. But they don't get warm - the wind blows away any heat that had a chance to reach the three. But they don't mind. Their parkas are warm, and they're finally making progress - they're almost to the other side of the mountain. Soon, they'll finally get the chance to ski down the hill and properly _search_.

And then, to everyone's surprise, they see a figure on the hill below.

Triton freezes in place, gesturing to the others with a warning hand. They don't want to scare whoever's down there away, and the girls understand perfectly. Lumara stays in place while Triton and Thetis shuffle over to the side of the hill - if it works, they'll trap whoever's below them in the centre of the hill.

When they're all in position, Thetis nods sharply over to her twin. Lumara's already cruising down the hill, her skis barely making any noise on the slopes. The snow still sinks under Triton's feet, but it's still reasonably easy to move down the hill. It hasn't affected it too badly.

Thetis catches up to Lumara quickly, flanking her on the right. Triton, on the left, passes them both, and the tribute - it's the boy from Six, Triton notices - finally glances up to see them. He screams and begins to run, tripping through the snow as he tries to get to the side of the slope. But Triton throws a ski pole at him - he's been carrying an extra one so he doesn't have to waste his trident on a moment like this - and the boy darts back to the centre. Where Lumara is.

He's trapped.

 **.oOo.**

They wouldn't want only three of them left to be left to deal with the rest of the outliers, right?

Right?

 **.oOo.**

 **Lumara Barrett, 15**  
 **District Four Female**  
 **1 Kill**

He's trapped.

Lumara grins as her skis soar down these slopes that never seem to end, hurtling down towards the boy from District Six. Oh, he won't get away from them here. He won't have a chance, not when there's three of them to catch him.

Yes, that'll be easy. Soon enough, there'll only be seven tributes left in the arena.

She's excited.

The boy keeps running, and Lumara decides to crash into him instead of trying to stop - trying to do so would be a waste of effort. The boy hurtles into the air from the impact, landing on his back and into a patch of particularly deep snow as Lumara tumbles down as well. She feels bruised all over now, but she has her bow still. She has her weapons.

And when she grabs the arrows that have spilled into the snow, rather looking like silver blades of grass that were too tall to be covered by the snow, she's ready to begin.

"So, who's killing him?" she asks her district partner, who's standing to her left with his trident and an indiscernible look on his face. "You want to do it this time?"

"Actually," begins Triton, his face clouding over. Thetis shoots him a look - Lumara doesn't like how easily they communicate for knowing each other for only a few days - and Triton brightens up. "You can take this one, Luma. I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Me?" Lumara frowns, looking down at the boy. He's frozen in fear, eyes darting back and forth between her face and the two figures that must be in the corners of his vision. Thetis and Triton haven't made a move to get any closer, but their weapons are drawn.

Oh well, she can only hope that they'll help out if he tries to get away. They wouldn't want only three of them left to be left to deal with the rest of the outliers, right?

Right?

But there's no time to think about that now. She draws her bow, aims - and the boy finally moves, sprinting away from Lumara. Without thinking, she shoots. The arrow flies south of his back, but lodges itself into his leg.

Close enough.

She charges at the boy, throwing caution to the wind as she takes an arrow in her hand and slashes at his back. It misses at first, but soon she crashes into him and they tumble into the snow. Rolling back so that he doesn't grab her arrow, Lumara pulls her arm out from under his legs and scratches at his neck with her arrow. Now he's bleeding, a trail of blood from under his chin seeping into his parka. Finally, she -

The boy's fist smashes into her windpipe and she wheezes in pain, clutching at her throat. She can't breathe, she can't breathe - she can't breathe - she can't breathe - she can't breathe until she pushes herself up and screams for help. "Triton! Thetis!"

They don't move, and she hisses before tackling the boy again. This time, she stabs the arrow through his cheek and _pulls_. It rips through his cheek all too easily, and the force of pulling it out sends her tumbling into the snow. Now, the boy is on top of her and trying to rain his fists onto her face as she tries to push herself away.

But when she finally gets him off of her, both hissing in pain, the mountain falls over them both.

 **.oOo.**

Well, he'll find out.

 **.oOo.**

 **Gilbert Dongalls, 15**  
 **District Six Male**  
 **0 Kills**

He hears a loud, sharp bang that rattles his eardrums before the mountain's snow gives way and comes rolling down to him and the girl from Four. They both scream, more out of shock than fear at this point.

Neither of them expected the fight to end this way.

He can see the boy from Four and the girl from Two dart out of the way, disappearing into the trees as the snow comes crashing down towards himself and the girl. The boy from Four is yelling something, but Gil can't hear it - the avalanche is too loud for him to hear anything at all.

And then the snow carries him away, pushing away the girl from Four somewhere into the deep. It's like he's underwater, being dragged to the bottom of an ocean that never seems to end. It occurs to him that he should try to hold his breath instead of breathing in the snow, so he holds it while the snow envelopes him in a sea of black.

It's like he's drowning, but when the snow finally stops he discovers that he can still scream.

After screaming for as long as he can, Gil decides that doing so was the stupidest thing that he could have done. Screaming did nothing but waste air in the small bubble that he's in, being who knows how deep under the surface of the mountain. No, he only has a bit of air left before he'll begin to suffocate. First, he'll feel a horrible burning feeling, as if he's held his breath for too long, and then - he doesn't know what comes after that. He's never suffocated before.

Well, he'll find out.

As the air begins to grow hotter, Gil tries to push his arms up. But they're stuck in place as surely as they would be in dried cement, refusing to budge from their position in the snow. He's trapped here - there's no escaping this unless some kind game maker decides to let him go free.

Considering that Isa won last year and the Capitol wouldn't look kindly towards two victors from Six in a row, there won't be a kind game maker to help Gil.

Well, this is it. For ages, he had wondered what Tony had gone through. The dread, the pain, the fear, the acknowledgement that he was going to die, Tony had gone through all of that in the Capitol. But instead of surviving, he fell off his pedestal and towards death in a thousand pieces.

And Gil had made it all the way to the final eight, just to die like he had thought.

He deserves it. He shouldn't have been allowed to live for so long, not when Tony had died so quickly. Tony had deserved to go further. He had been cruel, he had been foolish, but he was Gil's _brother_. Gil _had_ to forgive him - _had_ to know that he didn't deserve what happened to him. When Tony died, Gil knew that he should have been the one to go. He didn't deserve to stay standing when his older brother was gone.

It wasn't fair.

As the last bit of air escapes his lungs and he starts to close his eyes, ignoring the pain that was everywhere and nowhere at once, stubborn tears start to trickle down his cheek and into the cold snow. They're hot, wet, and salty. There's something shameful in them, but there's relief as well. He knows that there is.

As Gil takes one last breath of tainted air before sleeping into the sleep of the dead, he can hear a small voice telling him that he'll find peace in just a moment.

He thinks that he might.

 **.oOo.**

He snaps out of his haze when the first cannon sounds.

 **.oOo.**

 **Dimitri Muller, 16**  
 **District Two Male**  
 **2 Kills**

Dimitri's decided to spend his time in the cornucopia to sleep - something that he's decided he's missed out on. So what if someone manages to get into the chalet and steals something? He's always been a light sleeper, and he's faster than most of the people who are left. He can always stop them if they get too close.

After all, no one would dare to get too close to the chalet. They're too frightened by the careers to do so.

He leans back, putting a pillow over his face to block the sunlight, and dreams. When he wakes, about an hour later, a light burst of snow is falling down - and judging by the clouds that are moving away from the chalet and into the distance, it's the end of a rampant snowstorm. Dimitri yawns and watches the snowfall, rubbing his eyes to keep awake. It's a pretty sight - the gods must be happy today.

As he gets up and stretches, he hears a loud bang in the distance and whirls around to look out of the window. He can't see a thing - there's nothing out of the ordinary but a cloud of snow on top of the mountain. Idly, Dimitri wonders what could have happened there. But it's none of his concern for now - no, he's here until the three get back.

He snaps out of his haze when the first cannon sounds.

What could that have been? _Who could it have been?_ Dimitri looks outside to see if there's any sign, any clue for who's dead, but he sees nothing at all. At least it's only one cannon, he thinks to himself. There's still two careers left at the most, if not all three. Yes, what likely happened was that they had found some poor outlier and slaughtered them to bits. It was only a coincidence that there was a cloud of snow at the top of the mountain, looking like… looking like dust did at the top of mountains in District Two when there were avalanches.

When the second cannon goes off, Dimitri feels like it's been hours.

Of course, it's only been a quarter of an hour at most, but he can't help but be worried. Who in the arena, who or _what_ could have put up a fight against the strongest people in the arena? He understands if it was someone like Lumara who was killed, but Triton and Thetis? They're the only people he can consider his equals right now. What would have happened to them to cause them to die?

He's not worried for himself. No, Dimitri's accepted years ago that if he happens to die in the Hunger Games, it'll be the will of the gods and that will be that. But when he thinks of the careers, those who are supposed to be cursed volunteers who've broken the rules of the gods and must suffer as a result yet turned out to be people he could call his _friends_ , he breaks into a cold sweat.

He doesn't want them to die.

When Triton and Thetis arrive at the chalet, shoulders slumping as they walk in quietly and faces red from exertion, Dimitri slumps with them.

"What _happened_?" he asks, noticing that Triton's and Thetis' faces look like they've been dragged across a piece of pavement - raw, red, and sore. They must have been hit with rough pieces of snow in the avalanche - yet they got out.

And Lumara didn't.

"There was a fight… Lumara was against the boy from Six… we were waiting for her… and then the mountain fell apart with the avalanche. I clung to trees, Thetis was almost swept away… we dug and dug, but we only found the bodies..." Triton lapses into silence, unusually solemn for someone who's made friends easily with the four - the _three_ now.

Thetis stares at the floor, a furious gaze forming rapidly on her face. "There's only six left. That's one for each of us - we're almost there. We have to hurry. We don't know how much time we have left until the game makers decide to throw something at us again, and we don't know how well-liked the others are. We have a couple of days at the most to find another, and we _have_ to get rid of them right away. We _have_ to."

They all nod, and when Dimitri straps on his skis they head back out, back into the arena.

There's no time to lie around at the cornucopia. It's time to play.

 ***big sip of denial juice***

 **8th: Gilbert Dongalls, District Six Male; Killed by Avalanche. Created by 66samvr.**

Gil was a good, good guy who we all knew was going to die but hoped against hope that he wouldn't. He had it rough - being the brother of Tony after what had happened in the 16th Games had really shaken him up inside, and he found it hard to deal with that. But in the arena, he was starting to discover that he wasn't just a failure - he had purpose, he could _do_ things in there that others might not be able to. He made it into the final eight, and came close to the final six - if it wasn't for the avalanche, he very well might have. Thank you to Vr for this poor smol boi - he will be missed.

 **7th: Lumara Barrett, District Four Female; Killed by Avalanche. Created by brooke2214.**

Lumara was a breath of fresh air, someone who wasn't very angsty but just a bit of a brat who needed to be sorted out. She got that chance once she was accepted by the careers and survived the bloodbath - at that point, they had no choice but to. But she knew that she could do things, and was bossy while doing them, and had a lot of flaws - and that was one of the reasons I liked her so much. Lumara didn't collapse into herself because she had flaws, she worked past them and kept going due to sheer tenacity. It was her moment to prove herself, though, and time was running out for her to win a fight when she went against Gil - something that proved to be her downfall. Thank you, Brooke, for this great girl!

 **And we're into the final six! Are y'all surprised? We've only got a few more chapters before the finale, and I'm excited to see how everyone reacts. It's going to be chaotic!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	30. Pray You Catch Me

They're all ready for it to end.

 **.oOo.**

 **Triton Clifford, 17  
District Four Male  
3 Kills**

It's time to buckle down and get things done today.

Well, that's what he had said on the seventh day. But now it's the tenth, and they're no closer to finding any tributes.

Dimitri has been itching to find someone, Triton can tell. There's something in his eyes, the way he walks, the way he gets just a bit more impatient whenever the other two pause in their work that tells Triton that the boy wants to get this over with soon.

But they're stuck here, for now, combing through the arena in larger and larger shifts. They haven't had a chance to check the far side of the mountain well, and they don't know if they'll be able to. There's only three of them, after all, and splitting up would only make them weaker.

Yet, splitting up could prove to be the fastest way to find the rest.

"So who wants to go on the far side?" Thetis asks, chewing a piece of dried fruit that she's fished out from some container. She's in remarkably high spirits still, although she looks more tired every day. Triton's worried about her - he doesn't know if she'll be able to properly fight if she keeps pushing herself like this.

He should trust them more, yet he gets more nervous with every day that passes.

"I'll go - Dimitri too, you can take this side. We'll spend as much time as we can to look for the tributes. If we don't find anyone in four days, or if we hear a cannon, we all head back to the chalet and settle back down. Sounds good?" Triton looks around the group, and they nod.

It's strange how quickly he's settled into a leadership position now that Lumara is gone. Although it still hurts to know that she's not here, that he's lost one more piece of District Four, he's channelled that energy in searching and working to finish these games.

They're all ready for it to end.

"And what if we hear more than one cannon?" Dimitri asks, looking at the others coolly.

"Then we run." Thetis finishes the conversation, grabbing the food and splitting it into thirds. "We should be close to the end once we run out - ration, I guess, but the better thing to do is use it as fuel to search. The quicker they're gone, the quicker we win."

"Agreed." Dimitri takes the smaller portion of food, a gracious gesture on his behalf. He pushes his sword back into its makeshift holster and turns, waving a hand goodbye to the others. "Good… good luck, you two. Stay safe, out there."

"He's really changed," Triton whispers to Thetis when Dimitri walks out of the door and towards the ski lift. "You think that he would have done the same thing if he still had the same mentality in training?"

"Don't underestimate a Two," Thetis replies. "He's loyal - he must have had some sort of epiphany, and I trust him. He's not the threat."

"For now."

And with that, they depart.

Triton takes the ski lift up the hill, settling into his seat and watching Thetis disappear into the forest. She moves quickly, practically dancing on her skis as she fades into the forest and out of his vision. Ahead of him, he can see the figure of Dimitri leap off of the ski lift and head down a path that takes him to the left side of the mountain. That leaves the right for him, and Triton slides off of the seat when he reaches the top of the mountain. He looks down the mountain path, nods once, and pushes off.

It's time to hunt.

 **.oOo.**

It's perfect.

For now, at least.

 **.oOo.**

 **Ellington Lockwood, 18  
District Nine Female  
1 Kill**

She needs to find a new place to hide.

The fact that it's the thirteenth night has slipped from Elli's mind as she trudges through the snow, looking for a suitable tree to hole herself up in. Her mind needs _some_ sort of variety if she's going to keep surviving out here, and she doesn't have enough energy to climb higher than other tributes.

She ran out of food two days ago.

She finds the perfect tree a few minutes later - thick and bushy needles that will hide her thin frame from view, intertwined with branches from other trees to keep itself in position, and with low-hanging branches that she can haul herself up on. It's perfect.

For now, at least.

About ten feet above the ground, Elli's strength gives up and she settles down on the branch. It's big enough to hold her frame, and she pushes her feet onto another branch so that they won't have to be pulled up for hours on end. She doesn't want to cramp them too badly.

She leans her head on the tree's trunk and falls asleep, forgetting to tie herself in the tree. When she wakes, it's dark, and she flails around in panic as she nearly falls out of the tree. It's only another branch that keeps her up as she shoots a hand out to balance herself properly. When she's calmed down, she looks out into the forest - there's nothing but darkness and the silhouettes of other trees in the forest.

She's still alone.

She's still here.

The rest of the night seems to fly by, all too quickly, and Elli yawns when she wakes up. She feels like a mess - sleeping on a tree doesn't help her back or muscles from getting sorer than she knew were possible, and the only upside was that she wasn't wet. She's surprised she hasn't been wet or cold enough to catch hypothermia yet - perhaps it's the parka, perhaps it's the fact that she's stayed out of the snow whenever she had a proper chance to.

Oh well, the only thing that matters is that she isn't dying from hypothermia. The voices - she's too tired to pay proper attention to them anymore - have subsided for once, and the only thing that she has to struggle with are the illusions.

The sky decides to be a brilliant shade of red today, the colour of Birchwood's blood, and Elli looks down into the snow. At least it stays white - her mind will give her the comfort of keeping the snow various shades of white. Yes, perhaps she'll stay sane - well, as sane as she was when she started the Games - if she just ignores the illusions.

"Day Fourteen!" she mumbles to herself, pushing through a mound of snow to get back to her tree. Today, she won't even bother trying to find a new place to hide. If anything, it'll expose her more if she keeps moving.

She wants to sleep.

There are two paths of footprints in front of her as she walks back to the tree, one her own and one the heavy tread of an unfamiliar boot, but she ignores them. It's probably just another illusion, and she's not going to try to fight it. She'll get back to her tree, sleep, and then deal with the footprints if they're still there. If they were ever truly there to begin with, for that matter.

When she gets to the tree, though, her senses start screaming at her to run. She looks around, confused, but she sees nothing.

She sees the boy when she looks up.

At least, Elli reflects as the boy gives an apologetic smile and pushes his sword into her chest - cutting through whatever major arteries he believes will help her bleed out faster - she can finally close her eyes and _rest_.

 **.oOo.**

She can't remember anymore.

 **.oOo.**

 **Bayleigh Mountainson, 12  
District Ten Female  
1 Kill**

She wants to rest.

Bayleigh's mind, however, refuses to rest as she lies under the pine tree and pretends that she's dead. What would it be like, she wonders, to die?

She doesn't know what's supposed to happen now that they're two weeks into the Hunger Games and there's only six of them left - that's what she thinks the number is now, if her counting of the large blasts that followed every death is correct - but _something_ should happen soon. There's only a fourth of the original twenty-four left - the top twenty-five percent, only a quarter of the original tributes. There's a witticism in that thought, somewhere, but she doesn't have the knowledge or patience to find it.

She doesn't have the strength for anything now.

How, she thinks as she gazes at the brilliant green of the forest around her, will she be found by the other tributes? She's been living off of snow that she melts off of her tongue for the past few days, and her energy is completely spent. Her stomach aches for something to eat, and she can barely move. That's the reason she's under this tree - she had dragged herself here yesterday to rest until she's found.

"I'm sorry… Mom… Dad… it wasn't your fault," she manages to whisper into the morning light. "It… it was mine too… I'm sorry."

Then she closes her eyes, and rests. It's so cold here, lying under this pine tree on the snow. Yet she can't get up - she's stuck in place until she dies or someone finds her. What will it be like to be found by another tribute? Will they draw out her death? Will it hurt?

Maybe she'll get so cold that when they finally find her, she'll be too numb to feel whatever they do to her.

The thought comforts Bayleigh as she falls into a deep, deep sleep.

She wakes up to the sound of a cannon, rubbing her eyes blearily. Her stomach still aches, but her mind is racing furiously. Who's dead? What happened? How many does that make now? One… two… three… four… five… six left now? No, is it seven? She can't remember anymore. She can't remember anything, nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing…

She falls asleep again, exhausted.

Is it a natural instinct for the body to preserve energy by sleeping? Bayleigh doesn't know, but that's what she wonders when she wakes up again. She's still cold, but there's a bit of body heat that's been preserved in the folds of her parka to keep her warm.

That's a small relief for now. At least, while she can still think, she can stay warm.

It starts to turn cold again, the wind blowing through the trees and chilling Bayleigh to the bone. She curls up into a small ball, and tries to cry in frustration. The tears freeze before they hit the ground, breaking off of her face and falling into the snow. She tries to bury herself in her parka, but it's too cold now - the wind has stolen all of her warmth.

Her teeth are chattering madly as she pushes herself into a sitting position, trying to look around. It's so cold, yet it's not… she's starting to get warm again. She can feel the wind on her face, still, but perhaps it's warming up again. Maybe the parka's warmer than she thought - it's _too_ hot, in fact. She needs to take it off before she swelters in it. She's going to _die_ from this heat alone.

Before she gets the chance to take her boots off along with the parka that she pushes to the side, she hears a voice in the snow.

"Hello?"

Bayleigh looks up. Who is it? There's no one left here, right? She's the… the only… the only one in this forest.

Well, not any longer.

She closes her eyes and ignores the voice of the girl, who comes closer. "Oh, it's the girl from Five - are you okay? Um, you're going to feel pain for a bit but it'll go away soon - I'm sorry, darling. Well… if you go anywhere after the pain, put in a good name for Thetis Clifford, okay? I'm sorry."

Bayleigh shuts her eyes as hard as she can, hoping that she won't feel the pain. She does, of course, and it spreads all over her body like fire as the pressure comes again. She feels wet and sticky now, so wet and sticky and red and bloody and red and…

And the pain goes away.

 **.oOo.**

It'll be the perfect chance for her to plot.

 **.oOo.**

 **Audra Zimanski, 16  
District Five Female  
1 Kill**

The cannon sends its warning throughout the arena once more, and Audra looks up in surprise.

So, she's made it to the final four.

 _Interesting_.

But the cannon's in the middle of the day, too far from evening to let her know who actually died, so she goes back to pouring through the contents of the cornucopia. After leaving her shelter on the twelfth day - she had burnt it down and doused it with snow, just to make sure no one would track her or use it for their own purposes - she had gone back to the chalet with a hunch that no one would be there.

She had been proven right when she walked in - without the girl from Four, Lumara, the careers had decided to leave the cornucopia and start hunting on their own. She decided to use it instead, guessing that no one would think of coming in until they had found someone in the arena, and today her instincts proved her to be correct once more.

Fourteen days and twenty tributes after entering the arena, Audra finally has her chance to win the Hunger Games.

Putting everything back into its place, she takes her axe and retreats back up the stairs to the rooms that the careers had overlooked. Judging by the cleanliness of the rooms in the chalet, the careers have only camped in the cornucopia and used their spare time to hunt. When they come back to regroup, they won't think of looking up here.

It'll be the perfect chance for her to plot.

Choosing a spot next to a window that overlooks the bottom floor of the chalet, Audra lies down and waits for the careers to return. It takes an hour or so, but the first of them - the boy from Four - walks in with his trident and a skittish, nervous look. Audra tenses, worried that he'll see her, but he walks into the cornucopia without a second glance. He has no idea that she's here.

A quarter of an hour later, the girl from Two walks in. She has blood splattered all over her parka, and she looks upset. Yet there's a steely gaze in her eyes that suggests that she's still ready to fight - she must have dealt with one of the tributes. Who would it have been, the girl from Nine or Ten? Perhaps it was both - but Audra doubts that. The girl would look prouder if she had killed two today.

The boy from Two is the last to join them, his shoulders straight as a rod. But she can see how they sag, just the tiniest bit, in relief when he sees that his allies are in the cornucopia. He must have been worried he was the only one of them left.

"Dimitri! So you killed the… Nine?" The girl murmurs, and Audra leans closer to the window to catch snippets of their conversation. "Only the… we'll get her soon."

"What's the plan?" The three discuss how they'll find Audra for a few minutes, unaware that she's right above their heads. In the end, however, they decide to spend the night in the cornucopia before heading back out to search. Audra settles back into the blankets that she had scavenged from a room up in the upper floor, confident in her plan.

They'll never find her here. This is the place they feel safest in. They won't suspect to look for her here - no, a reasonable tribute would be somewhere in the arena. While they're gone tomorrow to look for Audra, she'll sneak down and poison a meal. Once one was dead, the others would suspect foul play from among themselves - if all went well, they'd tear each other to bits.

And if not?

She has other ideas.

 **yEP**

 **6th: Ellington Lockwood, District Nine Female; Killed by Dimitri Muller. Created by LordShiro.**

Elli was a really fun girl to write - she had quite the complex backstory that I hope I managed to portray well, and she worked hard at everything that she did. She didn't let anything stop her, even when it was day fourteen and she was starving to death. She might have made it further, but hallucinations mixed with fatigue never works out well for people. It was time for her to go, and she never got a good chance to run from Dimitri. Thank you, Shiro, for a girl that I very much enjoyed writing! I hope I didn't misspell her name as Elle TOO often LOL

 **5th: Bayleigh Mountainson, District Ten Female; Killed by Thetis Clifford. Created by goldie031.**

Bayleigh was the one that we are probably all surprised by seeing make it this far - she was too small, too bratty, too off-beat to really get a good chance to make it to the final five. Yet surviving the bloodbath and pushing on through sheer grit allowed her to get all the way to the fourteenth day - and she might have made it further if Thetis hadn't found her. Thetis had the good graces to be apologetic about this death, because Bayleigh was the youngest here. She deserved this the least. Thank you, goldie, for a really fun girl who I kept enjoying more and more as I wrote her.

 **Thank you all for your lovely reviews, btw! I love seeing all of your thoughts on what will happen, and it's so nice to hear what you think. They mean a lot to me.**

 **NOW, GET READY FOR A DOUBLE UPDATE - REMEMBER TO READ THE NEXT CHAPTER AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**

 **Enjoy! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	31. State Of Grace

**ATTENTION: DOUBLE UPDATE - REMEMBER TO READ THE OTHER CHAPTER BEFORE THIS - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**

Yes, this will do indeed.

 **.oOo.**

 **Audra Zimanski, 16  
District Five Female  
1 Kill**

Before she opens her eyes, she realizes that she's slept in.

Audra opens one eye to see the daylight streaming onto her face, rolls over, and screams a muffled curse into her pillow.

She's missed her chance to poison their breakfast, she already knows that. Looking out the window to confirm that they're gone, she sees nothing but an empty cornucopia and the remains of their breakfast. Some kind sponsor had spent a fortune to get that in for them, she notices.

Oh well, she'll get a chance later on. For now, she'll have to wait until they get back to the chalet to properly deal with them.

Maybe poisoning the remainder of their food will be enough.

But it's now the sixteenth day, and she knows that if she doesn't do something _now_ she'll never do it. Yesterday, she simply watched them in the morning - trying to figure out what they were like, who would be the easiest the fight and the easiest to goad into a fight they can't win. She knows how people work. It's her greatest strength, and she hasn't been able to put it to good use just yet.

She's sure she'll get her chance to do so. She just has to wait.

Counting to ninety, Audra makes sure that they're truly gone before walking down the stairs. She's slow and certain, making sure that no one's slept in the cornucopia or is in the chalet to make sure that she doesn't steal their supplies.

They're all gone.

She's quick to let a few drops of the final thing that she requested from the game makers into the remainder of their meal - the poison splashes against the scrambled eggs and cinnamon rolls that have made up their meal, then sinks into a few unassuming pieces of bacon. It'll be impossible to see - until one of them eats it. Then, they'll start to choke a few minutes later, foam bubbling out of their mouth and their face turning red until they collapse on the ground. It'll be too late to vomit the mess out by that point. They'll be dead before they have a chance to fight against it.

She was saving it for something truly special - an alliance that she'd break apart, an ally who wouldn't suspect her deceit, but this will do for now.

Yes, this will do indeed.

Sprinkling the poison into the rest of their food, Audra is satisfied once everything is contaminated - everything except a few bags of dried jerky. She takes those for herself, walking back up the stairs to make sure that she'll have sustenance as she waits it out. She'll have a long day ahead of her.

Considering, of course, that the careers don't come back inside like they did yesterday - a raging storm kept them caged in for the entire day. She would have tried to poison it then, but posting sentries through the night worked too well for her to slip into the cornucopia.

As the hours pass and she quietly eats the jerky, she listens for cannons. None, unfortunately, signal the death of one of the careers, and she settles into her hiding spot to wait out the rest of the day.

But then she hears the beeping of a sponsor gift.

It's loud, shrill, and echoes through the room like clockwork - until she scrambles towards it and twists open the lid. Inside, there's a green liquid that bubbles inside of a glass tube - something that she won't touch with bare hands. To ensure that it is what she thinks it is, Audra drops a piece of jerky into the liquid. It dissolves like it was never there to begin with, and Audra cracks a dry smile.

No, yesterday wasn't her day. But this is telling her something more - she's not going to use poison. She'll have to be more aggressive than that to win the games today.

Yes, today will work just fine.

 **.oOo.**

He doesn't want to watch his friends die.

 **.oOo.**

 **Dimitri Muller, 16  
District Two Male  
3 Kills**

They're starting to get antsy.

It's difficult, trudging through the snow and searching for an enemy that won't come out, but Dimitri swallows away his annoyance and keeps skiing after his allies. The twins are starting to get worn out, but they refuse to quit - none of them want to stop just short of finding the tribute.

Of course, it's hard to keep focus when they're on the sixteenth day and they haven't had a decent sleep in over two weeks.

"Do you think she'll have gone somewhere on the other side of the mountain?" Triton asks to no one in particular, shimmying up a slope before bending his knees and pushing off to ski down the next. "She could be anywhere, I guess - though she's probably not close to us. I don't think that she'd be anywhere near the chalet - she shouldn't be. She shouldn't be."

"We'll find her soon enough," Thetis says confidently. "The game makers can't lead us on forever - they have to induce _some_ sort of conflict if we don't find her in a reasonable amount of time. We'll either find her or be given a map to her if we keep being stupid."

"Do you think it'll have a little X to mark the spot where she is?" Triton cracks, and they all laugh. The tension's been broken for now, but they're still tired and crabby from taking so long. Sooner or later, something's going to break, and Dimitri will be at the receiving end of it.

They'll just have to find the girl from Five before it gets to that point.

"She should be easy to spot with those scars and all," he murmurs to the others. "Poor girl - I wonder what happened to her face to make it that way. Imagine living with that for the rest of your life."

"Didn't she talk about it in the interviews?" pipes up Thetis, frowning. "I remember some sort of story - she was like a little girl or something. It was funny."

"Well, don't think too hard about it. We're going to have to kill her sooner or later: chatting about her woes and such will only make it harder," Triton advises. Thetis shoots him a thumbs up, and Dimitri gives a curt nod. He's not worried about bonding to her - she's here through the will of the gods, after all. If she's supposed to win, she'll win, and if she's not, she'll die.

The thought that his allies might die by her hand passes through his mind, and he shudders a bit. He knows that they're volunteers, - it's a refrain that passes through his mind whenever his conscience decides that he doesn't feel guilty enough - he knows that they shouldn't be here, but they're his friends now.

He doesn't want to watch his friends die.

It's hard to imagine what will happen if it's just him and the two twins after they find the girl.

They keep skiing through the woods, when Thetis lets out a scream and pushes them back. "Run! Run! Run!"

Dimitri looks past her and his heart drops, his eyes barely registering the wolves that are running at full tilt towards them before he turns and skis like his life depends on it.

It might.

He takes the lead, moving faster than Thetis and Triton as they make their way through the forest. The wolves are starting to gain on them, but they move faster and faster until they're out of the woods and almost at the chalet. Dimitri nearly falls at the end, but he wrenches off his skis and tosses them back at the wolves. Then he opens the door, stumbling into the chalet and trying to breathe, breathe, catch his breath before he collapses in a heap.

But then he turns around and pushes Thetis and Triton out of the way - the girl from Five is here.

And she's tossing a tube of acid right at them.

 **.oOo.**

She's ready for them.

 **.oOo.**

 **Audra Zimanski, 16  
District Five Female  
1 Kill**

The acid misses, regretfully, - although a bit hits the arm of the boy from Two - and Audra darts back to the safety of the stairs. She wants to have the upper hand in this fight. After all, she's facing three other tributes.

Her axe is right where she left it, leaning against the top of the stairs and ready for Audra to grab it right away. She takes it and brandishes the weapon, glaring at the three careers. "I might be the next to die, but I won't give up that easily. I'll promise you that."

"Good luck," the boy from Two says, then launches his first attack.

Audra barely dodges the sword that's meant for her ribs, twirling around and running back into the top floor. She runs past the ski room, shoving a few into the path of the incoming careers, then hurries into the nearest bedroom that the game makers had evidently thought the careers would use - something that they had ignored altogether.

She shoves the bedframe in front of the door that she's just locked on the careers, piling as much as she can in front of it to provide resistance against the careers. Then she grabs her axe, preparing to throw it at the first teen to enter the room and attack her. She's ready for them.

A few minutes pass before she gets her chance, the careers cursing as they try to break into the room through sheer force. The bedframe's too big to simply shove out of the way, however, and it takes one massive push from all three of the careers to send it flying away from the door. After a few slams against the locked door, the boy from Four is in - and Audra's axe hurtles towards his chest.

It doesn't miss the blonde-haired boy, yet it doesn't hit him. It's the handle of the axe that hits the boy in his chest, causing him to yell out in pain and stumble back as the axe falls onto the floor and hits it with a clatter. He tries to catch his breath - the wind's been knocked clean out of him - and Audra rushes forward to grab her axe.

The boy from Two is faster than her, though.

When the boy from Two pushes the axe behind him and leaps towards her, Audra runs from him. She's nimbler than the sturdy boy from Two, and she can leap onto furniture and away from the blade of his broadsword. She's stopped, however, when the girl from Two pushes against her and sends her tumbling into the window.

"You've been… a nuisance," the boy from Four says as he attempts to get up. "Thetis, are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," the girl answers. But she doesn't get a chance to swing her foreign weapon into Audra's chest just yet.

That's because instead of lying still and waiting to die, Audra tackles the girl from Two under they come crashing through the window and into the snowdrifts below.

 **.oOo.**

No, they're not going to stop.

 **.oOo.**

 **Triton Clifford, 17  
District Four Male  
3 Kills**

He and Dimitri simply stand and gape at the sight below for a moment - the girl from Five and Thetis grappling in the snow for her naginata, each trying to make sure that they're in control of the situation. Neither seems to be winning, yet the Five lands a decent punch against Thetis' nose before scrambling to grab the weapon.

She doesn't get the chance to use it, though - Triton leaps down before she even reaches the naginata.

"Triton!" Thetis yells, shaking him out of the stupor he fell into with his leap. "Use your trident - do _something_!"

Triton nods, spinning around and trying to hit the girl over the head with his golden weapon. But she's making her way out of the snow, and it smashes into her leg as a crowbar would. The girl screams, but she kicks back at Triton and stumbles out of the snow.

She's lucky - Dimitri comes tumbling down to the spot where she was lying in just a few seconds ago.

Now the three are chasing the girl back into the building, trying to catch her before she has the chance to run away from them and lock the door. Triton is first, and he pushes his hand into the door in an effort to stop it from closing before she smashes it onto his wrist. He screams from the pain, but Thetis is right behind him to throw the door open and hurry after the girl. They're not going to stop until they've caught her.

No, they're not going to stop.

The girl hurries into the cornucopia and finds a spare pile of arrows, stringing one to a bow and aiming at Triton. He ducks, and it heads right towards Dimitri - lodging itself in the arm where he was burnt by the acid.

The boy from Two shouts, more out of surprise than anything, and tosses the arrow away.

The girl keeps stringing arrows and aiming - and her aim is true. She almost catches Triton in the neck once with a good shoot, but his trident deflects the arrow away to clatter harmlessly on the floor. But even as she keeps aiming, she realizes that she's running out of ammunition - so after one last shot, she throws away the bow before starting to toss crates at them.

The first of the crates hits Thetis, trying to catch the girl by sneaking into the cornucopia, right in the chest. She's knocked backwards, and Triton winces in sympathy before getting hit by the second. He's knocked back into a weapons rack and stays there, trying to catch his breath. The girl tries to throw another crate at Triton, this time at his head, but Dimitri lunges forward and pushes it away in mid-air. She keeps throwing things at them - their food, sponsor gifts, weapons, assortments of items that she think will do damage. The assault leaves them battered and bruised, madly dodging items so that they won't be subject to a barrage of crates thrown at them once more. But they're dodging them well, and they're staying in one piece.

And suddenly, before any of them have a chance to realize what's happened, the girl from Five runs out of things to throw.

Thetis is the first to throw, her naginata hurtling through the air and embedding itself in the soft metal of the cornucopia. Unfortunately, it misses, and the girl runs at them with her axe raised above her head. She's about to throw.

And suddenly, she crumples, her broken frame wrapping around the trident that Triton's thrown into her chest.

As the girl keeps bleeding out, arms still clutching the trident, she looks up at the careers and mouths a few words.

 _Make it quick._

Triton obliges, a quick flick of his wrist slashing through the skin of her neck, and the girl sinks back with a sigh and a smile that lingers on her face, even as the cannon echoes through the arena.

The three look uncertainly at one another, all standing in the mess of the cornucopia and trying to make sense of what's happened.

Then, as they turn to fully face each other, Triton realizes what has them all on edge - there's no one left. No one but themselves.

The careers' last opponents are each other.

 **YEP**

 **4th: Audra Zimanski, District Five Female; Killed by Triton Clifford. Created by TheMayflyProject.**

If it wasn't one of these three, it would have been Audra. She was so, so, so fun - she was really done dirty by this arena, but she didn't let that stop her. She would have excelled and probably won this whole thing if she got a chance to socialize, make alliances, play the game, and twist everyone around her finger. All stars WHEN? But she was quite a nuanced character, taking what could have been a tragic backstory and turning it into quite the person. Audra was very fun to write, and I'm going to really miss having her in this arena. But I don't regret the victor, and I hope you guys won't either. Thank you so much, May, for Audra.

 **Final three! We'll have our victor tomorrow - who will win? Who won't? Any thoughts?**

 **Thanks again for all of your support, you guys are amazing. I'm glad to have you with me through this.**

 **Enjoy. Until our finale, TheAmazingJAJ**


	32. Ribs

He'll bide his time.

 **.oOo.**

 **Dimitri Muller, 16  
District Two Male  
3 Kills**

To everyone's surprise, Thetis throws away her weapon.

"I'm not going to turn on you like a dog," she says firmly. "We're going to sort this out, one way or another, and we'll do it _right_. No betrayal, no funny business. We'll settle it so that only the victor truly wins."

Triton drops his weapon, and Dimitri sets down his sword on a crate. They agree.

"So… how will we choose?" Triton asks, looking around at the group. Dimitri doesn't have an answer - he had never quite _thought_ of what to do if his final battle wasn't a battle of pure combat and skill, and Thetis frowns.

"We can draw straws - knives or something can work too. Shortest straws battle it out, winner faces the longest straw." A beeping noise surprises them all, and they glance up to see a sponsor gift drifting from the ceiling towards them. Thetis opens it up, setting down the top of the metal container.

Inside are three straws, all different lengths.  
"Well, I guess that this is it." Thetis puts the straws into her hand, and beckons to Triton to choose. "You choose first, then Dimitri. I'll take the last one - I don't mind."

Triton pauses, looking at every straw before quickly taking one and hiding it behind his back. Dimitri chooses one at random, and then Thetis opens her hand. "Let's compare, shall we?"

Triton is lucky enough to have the long straw - Dimitri's and Thetis' own are measly in comparison. The Twos look at one another, swallowing down their nerves before walking towards their weapons. "If I die, put up a fight worthy of a Two," Thetis tosses towards Dimitri.

He nods. "I will."

They take a second to breathe and gather their emotions, then they charge at one another. Thetis fends off Dimitri's first strike with her naginata, the long pole blocking his chance at getting a strike in. Dimitri retreats, knowing that he won't be able to get close to the girl from Two until she lets her guard down. Her pole, affixed with a blade at the end to ensure that she can still fight as easily as the others, is too long for him to get close to her and try to strike.

He'll bide his time.

The sunlight dances through the glass and onto their faces as they keep fighting, illuminating the golden metal of the cornucopia. Thetis is starting to get winded from blocking Dimitri's attacks, and Dimitri can see that Triton is starting to look nervous from where he rests near the cornucopia. He'll have to keep an eye on the boy - he doesn't know if Triton's loyalty lies closer to Four or Thetis, but he doesn't care to find out.

He'll have to be careful.

Thetis lashes out when Dimitri starts to get lost in thought, and he cries out in pain. She's hit his bad arm again, and the arm is starting to bleed once more. He shoves a hand down his arm to wipe away the blood and smears the stains on his pants, then swings at Thetis once more. Her naginata holds, but Dimitri can see the dent that he left in the weapon this time.

He's getting closer to finishing the battle.

 **.oOo.**

But instead of a cannon blast, he hears Dimitri scream as well.

 **.oOo.**

 **Triton Clifford, 17  
District Four Male  
4 Kills**

Dimitri's starting to win the battle, and Triton is nervous.

Yes, the boy from Two is getting closer to defeating Thetis as he lashes out once more with his large sword. Thetis is holding her own, but Triton can see her tremble under every blow that's dealt to her naginata - if she doesn't find a way to trick the boy, she'll lose this.

He knows that he's supposed to be the golden boy from Four. He can't win dishonourably - he has to let this play its course. He has to wait, then fight whoever's left when the battle is over. He hopes it's Thetis, he hopes that one of them gets a chance to go home and meet each other's family and get a chance to live their life, to put _something_ of their families back together.

But no, they're not going to get that chance - unless he manages to beat Dimitri in this fight. But Dimitri is strong, and Triton doesn't know if he can take him if he's able to keep it up like this. All he has is his trident. If he could use something he's _good with_ , like throwing knives, he'd be able to put up much more of a fight - but he can't. He's made the promise not to ages ago, when he decided that his victory would be one fitting of District Four.

He doesn't know how he'd be accepted otherwise.

But Dimitri is starting to turn the tide in the battle even more quickly than Triton imagined he would - he's able to get past Thetis and land his first proper strike, a glancing hit that bashes Thetis' arm. It doesn't cut the skin, but it knocks her down as she scrambles to grab her weapon back.

Dimitri doesn't let her.

Kicking the weapon away, the boy swings at Thetis' arm. Triton closes his eyes at the scream, not wanting to hear what happens next.

But instead of a cannon blast, he hears Dimitri scream as well.

Although her arm's a mess, Thetis has grabbed the hilt of the sword to shove back at Dimitri. It cuts through his shirt and leaves a streak of red, Dimitri pushing back at Thetis before leaping back. For a second, they both inspect their wounds to make sure that they aren't too serious. When they're satisfied, they grab their weapons and continue to fight.

But Dimitri is taking large, confident swings at Thetis, while she's starting to get sloppy. She almost loses her grip on the naginata while trying to land a hit on Dimitri, who aptly dodges before sending his sword straight towards her head. It doesn't hit her, but gets tangled in her long hair before Dimitri rips it free. Dirty-blonde locks of hair are sent flying to the floor, and Thetis hisses at Dimitri before throwing her naginata at his side.

Instead of trying to dodge, Dimitri swings back and sends the naginata flying away. It hits a window and bounces onto the floor, where Thetis dives to get it back. Dimitri swings at her ankle and must hit _something_ , because she screams as she rolls over and holds the naginata above her head. "I'm not… I'm not..."

"I'm sorry." Dimitri swings down once more, but Thetis pushes off of his legs to avoid the sword before she hits the wall. She tries to get up, but whatever's been sliced to bits in her foot causes her to stumble and fall back down again. Dimitri steps on top of her and raises his sword, whispering something that only she can hear before letting the sword fall into her side.

Thetis screams, and suddenly Triton can only see red. It's like something inside of him has caught fire, and he can almost feel the smoke rising out of his ears as he watches Dimitri finish his twin - his _sister_ off.

Before the cannon has a chance to send its cry through the chalet, Triton's trident leaves his hands and heads towards Dimitri's head.

 **.oOo.**

It's too late for that, though. Now, he has to fight the boy whose sister Dimitri just killed - the one that Dimitri considered his friend.

 **.oOo.**

 **Dimitri Muller, 16  
District Two Male  
4 Kills**

He hears the trident flying towards him before he hears the cannon. His instincts, honed from years of working at the academy - years that he had thought he had _wasted_ , he thinks with a wry smile - lets Dimitri duck before the trident lodges into the wall, vibrating from the force that Triton used to throw it.

But then Dimitri runs - because Triton's found more tridents, and he'll use them all until he hits Dimitri.

But he's actually in the final _two_ , he realizes as he darts through the mess of fallen crates and weapons before sending a trident flying with a swing of his sword. He had never expected to make it this far - he didn't think that the gods would decide that one of their worshippers deserved the chance to win.

He always thought that it would be someone like the girl from Five to make it to here against Triton, hopefully beating out the volunteer to fulfil the wishes of the gods. He rooted for one of the reaped, one of the people who were _supposed_ to be here instead of the volunteers.

But does he really think that? He doesn't know. Triton's been a good guy through the arena - a good aim, too, Dimitri realizes as a trident nearly takes his head off - and he worked well with Dimitri. He considered him his friend, and if they weren't in the arena they might have bonded more. Dimitri should have treated him kinder at the beginning, let him know that he only wasn't going to work with them because of his morals and not because he thought that he was better than the career pack.

Along the way, somehow, he bonded with the career pack. He doesn't want to hurt them now, doesn't want to kill again - it hurts to know that he killed Thetis. But he did it, he has to own up to it. And he has to do it again.

But if…

It's too late for that, though. Now, he has to fight the boy whose sister Dimitri just killed - the one that Dimitri considered his friend.

Kind gods wouldn't do that to a - no, he can't think like that. He can't blaspheme the gods. He shouldn't do that.

Well, that's what he's supposed to not do. But everything in his rational brain is screaming at him that this is wrong, that he shouldn't do it like this, that _no one_ should have to do this to someone else.

Maybe… maybe the gods are…

Triton's taken advantage of Dimitri's momentary pause, sending his trident flying towards Dimitri's chest. Dimitri dodges, but it hits his left arm - one sharp prong digging into the fleshy bit of his upper arm and staying there. He yanks it out with his right hand, tossing the weapon aside and acting as if it doesn't hurt.

It does.

Triton's down to his last trident, though, and he stalks towards Dimitri with a wild, raging glare that pierces through Dimitri's calm. "You'll pay, you know. Last battle - it's time to forget everything. Only one of goes home, and it'll be me."

When Triton jabs the trident at Dimitri's chest, he dodges and returns the blow with a swing of his own. They've given up trying to dodge and run - it's time to fight.

It's time to let the gods decide.

He only can hope they'll be merciful, but he doesn't know if that means he or Triton wins.

He doesn't want to find out.

 **.oOo.**

Triton lunges forward and hopes that it'll be enough to trick Dimitri into getting himself killed.

 **.oOo.**

 **Triton Clifford, 17  
District Four Male  
4 Kills**

He's angry now, but he can't stop his temper from boiling over until he lunges at Dimitri and tries to spear him with the trident. He can only hope that it'll be his path to victory, that it will help him slaughter the boy from Two instead of the other way around.

The boy's sword comes flying towards Triton, but he blocks it with his trident. The golden weapon quivers from the force of the blow, but holds firm - it _needs_ to hold firm, or he'll have nothing left to work with. Triton knows that he isn't faster than Dimitri, and without his trident he won't be able to get to another before Dimitri's sword tears him to pieces. He has to make a move, do _something_ right before it's his turn to die.

He doesn't want to die.

He channels that anger and fear into a vicious push, knocking the sturdy boy from Two off-balance before Triton spears him with the trident. It's too shallow to do serious damage, but the boy lets out a broken gasp between his teeth before wrenching backwards. He's hurt - maybe hurt enough for Triton to get in another swing.

Before he can do that, however, the boy flicks his wrist and the sword goes flying and _oh Panem Triton's hand is gone his hand is gone his hand is nowhere to be seen_ -

It's almost impossible now to handle the trident with only one hand, so Triton lunges forward and hopes that it'll be enough to trick Dimitri into getting himself killed.

And it works - the boy doesn't anticipate Triton coming back so quickly. He doesn't move as the trident pierces his chest, splintering his ribcage as it digs into his chest. But it must have not pierced any vital organs - not badly, anyway - because the boy slashes at Triton's upper thighs before he staggers away and sinks to the floor. He doesn't bother to remove the trident - he must have decided that he'll lose too much blood if he does.

Triton feels woozy as well - those cuts to the thighs must be deeper than he thought. He looks down and, sure enough, it's cut through his pants and has gone deep into both thighs. He knows that's bad - there's a memory in his brain telling him that it's _really_ bad to be cut there, but he just wants to lie down and rest. His breath feels more shallow, rapid, like he's panicking, and suddenly he is. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die.

He sinks to the floor beside Dimitri, and they lie and wait to see who'll die first.

Triton's mind is starting to fog, and he glances over to see if Dimitri is still there. He's lying still, very still, and for a glorious second Triton thinks that he might have finally died. But no, Dimitri manages to let out a weak cough before sinking back into silence. There they both wait, playing one last game - dying games, Triton thinks. They chose the wrong name for the Hunger Games, didn't they?

He's starting to get very cold - oh, so cold as the minutes wear on. Did someone open a window? Did Dimitri try to run out of the door and away from Triton? He tries to lean over and see if Dimitri's still there, but he can't muster up the strength to do so - he's so tired that he just wants to…

He just wants…

He just…

To go to sleep.

Everything's turning dark now, and Triton tries to raise a hand and gesture to Dimitri that he's finished, the game is over, they can go home now. But he can't, and he falls into a darkness that never seems to end.

The trumpets never come, and he keeps falling until he doesn't feel anything at all.

 **We! Have! A! Victor!**

 **3rd: Thetis Clifford, District Two Female; Killed by Dimitri Muller. Created by AmericanPI.**

Pi, I'm so sorry.

Thetis was AWESOME. Like, really awesome - if she was in a full SYOT, she would have done even better than she did here imo. She was part of a really cool pairing that I'm glad I got the chance to explore, and it was fun to have a nice, lighthearted silver girl. She was a great addition to the pack and one of the reasons why they did so well this year, working with the group to create a well-oiled machine that got to the final three on their own. But she wasn't as strong as the guys, and she was as tired as they were - one mistake, and she was a goner. She made that mistake. Thank you SO, so much, Pi, for this awesome girl.

 **2nd: Triton Clifford, District Four Male; Killed by Dimitri Muller. Created by AmericanPI.**

I'd like to have one of those speeches about how Triton and Dimitri kept switching back and forth as potential victors, but that isn't true at all. Dimitri has been my victor since the moment I received his form, and Triton was merely just one of the careers. But as I kept developing him through the Games, I got to know this anxious guy who just wanted to win in the one way he knew how, and really fell in love with his character. He got to the finale because of the fact that the careers were astounding this year, but also because he led them so well - without his guiding hand, they might have fallen earlier in the avalanche or against Tracks, so on and so forth. I feel really bad to do this to you, Pi, but I hope you understand that Triton was a joy to write. Thank you.

 **Victor: Dimitri Muller, District Two Male; 5 Kills. Created by RoadieMcRoadface**

Dimitri was my victor as soon as I read his form - I know that he was originally created as more of a lighthearted tribute, but I LOVE tributes like Dimitri - and I saw a ton of potential in his character that could lead to some cool arcs. He started out as a blunt, stubborn religious guy who wouldn't change his views if you tried, but death changed him - he started to bond with the careers that he had realized could be more than suitable allies, but _friends_ that he could work with. It was hard for him to fight them, but he's nothing if not a fighter. The fact that he slashed large blood veins in Triton's thighs caused the boy from Four to bleed out ever so slightly faster than Dimitri did himself, and the seventeenth Hunger Games found themselves a victor. I really enjoyed this guy, and I hope you all are happy with his victor. Thank you so much to Roadie for Dimitri - it looks like two times is the charm for you!

 **That's our finale - we have a victor! We'll have an epilogue tomorrow, and then we'll finally be finished with Caveat Lector. Ahh, I'm not ready to let go of this :')**

 **What did you all think? Anyone deserve the victory more than our victor? Let me know in a review! Thanks to everyone who's stuck around - you all were awesome, and I hope you submit to my next story. Yeah, a new SYOT is coming around in May/June, and I'll be sure to notify you all when it happens! It's going to be a wild one...**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	33. Clean

**Isa Douglas, 16  
Victor of the 16th Hunger Games**

She's numb when Celaeno dies - she can't feel anything at all. She just watches the pale, rumpled body of her tribute fall to the floor and slowly bleed out as others escape the arena. Doug gives her a pat on the back before he goes back to his screen, making plans to talk to the game makers in an attempt to make sure that Gil doesn't die on the first day of the bloodbath, but Isa bites her lip and tries very hard not to cry.

It doesn't work.

"There, there," Maddie Fey soothes as they sit in a small Capitol cafe and sip cups of steaming coffee. "My first tribute was so, so hard to watch die - I still remember her dying so soon. She didn't deserve it, none of them do, you know. It won't get any easier for a while, but it fades with time. All of deal with it in our own way - Joe carves their name into his bedroom wall when he gets home. It's very pretty: he's quite a master with carpentry and such. But if you need to talk, I'll be here - and if Rosanna gets any time off, she can help too. She's very good with this sort of thing." Maddie takes a big sip of her coffee, draining the cup before asking the waiter for yet another.

"It's going to be okay! You'll be fine, just wait and see," Kaitlynn Spark whispers on the third day while Ellington Lockwood kills the boy from Seven. "It's hard - oh, so hard. I don't know how I got through my first… I don't know how I got through any of them. I don't… I don't…"

"I felt the same way when Holly and Hem died. It's impossible for a week - but it leaves you. I promise." Tomas Spool nods emphatically as he and Isa sit on a large, fluffy couch, watching the Games. He bursts into tears when the replays of Chase's recent death begin to play, and Isa attempts to give him a comforting hug.

It's the least she can do for him.

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry," is Mags Flanagan's reply even as she loses yet another tribute. Lumara's body is frozen in the recent avalanche that wiped away two more competitors, yet the woman from Four still musters up the strength to speak to Isa. "Gil must have been a good man - I'm glad to see that he could put up a fight against my Lumara. I love my children… but when they've met their match, you can't do anything but swallow your tears and hope that tomorrow will be a better day. It often is, you know."

"You're going to be alright, Isa. We'll get through it together. All we can do is go home and hope that next year will be better. If you want, we can do something for both of them - I don't have anything to do for them, not anymore. Not after last year," Doug tells her as they watch Elle and Bayleigh be killed by the careers, only minutes apart. "But I'm here for you - we're _all_ here for you."

And after a lot of tears and a lot of self-questioning, Isa realizes that she might - just _might_ \- be okay soon.

Just not right now.

She and Doug sit in District Seven's living room with the rest of the outlier victors, barring Rosanna. She's still working on finding sponsors for her tribute if she manages to get through this fight against the careers or escape their grasp to recover. They don't know what might happen, but all are rooting for Audra - most of the outliers root for their own before resorting to the careers.

"Oh, she's not going to make it," Falcon says with a pained sigh as Audra falls out of the window and into the snow with Thetis. "I'm going to hurry to Rosanna - she'll need someone to be there when it's over. I can't let her do this alone, not when Audra got so far."

The other victors nod their assent and push Falcon out of the room, a platter of baked goods in his hand to soothe his wife. Then, they settle back onto the couch and begin to guess who'll be the next to join them while arguing over a bottle of champagne. Isa avoids the alcohol - thankfully, so does Doug. She gives his hand a comforting squeeze while Sean and Joe rowdily pour themselves a glass, passing it to a few of the other victors.

Most don't decline.

"Oh, and she's gone." Maddie gives a sigh, shaking her head in pity. "She had a fine head on her shoulders, that one - I wish she could have had a second chance. A different arena would have suited her."

"The arena's only made for one," reminds Joe before drinking the rest of his small glass. "Only one deserves to get out of there. Audra was a good gal, but these three are the ones taking it home tonight. And we'll support any of them."

The others agree, very unenthusiastically, and they settle back into their seats to continue watching. Isa catches the eye of the only victor from Twelve, Ashira Marlstone, who gives her a warm smile before going back to a discussion with Maddie. It's strange, but she feels like she belongs here - Isa belongs with these victors, her fellow survivors of the arena.

She's earned it.

 _Boom!_ Thetis' cannon rings through the arena, and Maddie sighs once more. "So, meathead against meathead - _fun_."

"Hey, isn't the Dimitri fellow against volunteers or something?" asks Kaitlynn, looking confused. "He - he said something about it being the will - the will of…"

"He's religious," Ashira says quietly. "Clay's said something about there being a few religious sects back in Two, but Dimitri's is different. He seems to be struggling with it now, though - haven't you seen the way he smiles around the others? He's learned something that he won't forget - he won't be so keen to dismiss volunteers if he escapes the arena this year."

"A shame, a shame," Joe says. "Hey - that was a fine move by the Four boy!"

They all watch in tense silence, the final two bleeding out before the boy from Four lets out a hollow, raspy noise: his last breath. The cannon goes off, and Dimitri lies unconscious as the trumpets sound for the seventeenth victor of the Hunger Games. Five kills - so many, Isa thinks. Yet he's done it, and is carried out on a stretcher by a medical team before the emergency hovercraft flies away and the screen turns dark.

"And that's it," Doug says quietly. The others are silent as well, pondering the fact that they have yet another joining their midst.

Another to share their sorrows.

* * *

Isa gets more sleep now that the Games are over. She's learning to be thankful for the small things, to take comfort in little blessings so that her soul isn't crushed by everything else in the world.

Besides, it helps her mental state immensely to get three more hours of sleep every night.

Dimitri takes a while to heal in the hospital. It's two weeks until he's well enough to have visitors, yet another before she and Doug are allowed to visit the newest victor. The hospital is bleached an antiseptic shade of white, and Isa shivers when she remembers the weeks she spent in here. She thought she'd never come back… where the flames were still fresh in her mind, where the blood was barely scrubbed off of her hands.

"Isa? Isa!" She blinks and looks up at Doug's worried face. "You blanked for a moment - you looked like you were about to faint. Are you sure you're alright?"

She nods once, faintly, then nods again when she realizes how weak the first must have seemed. "No, I'm good. It's just that it's…"

"It's hard for me too. But… but it's gotten better now that my fondest memory here is coming to see _you_ ," Doug replies, and Isa smiles up at him.

"Thank you."

They walk inside the room, glancing at the other three victors from District Two, who nod. Then they step towards the bed, Isa looking down at the face of the newest victor. "Hey… I'm Isa - you might remember - I was last year's victor."

"I remember," Dimitri replies. He looks tired - his face is sunken in, and there are dark circles around his eyes. "You won in the fire - the girl from Nine. It was a good victory."

"It's hard, isn't it?" she says gently, reaching a hand out to the boy. For a second, she realizes that she's only a month or so older than him, and the thought astounds her. She feels eons older than sixteen. "But you'll get to go home, to touch your family, and you have Clay and Natalia and Caleb to keep you company."

"I'll get through it," Dimitri responds. His eyes flash, and he pushes himself up on top of his pillows. "But - I won't be the same now. I _can't_ be, can I?"

The five victors nod.

They know exactly what Dimitri means.

* * *

Tomas and Falcon are unsure around the new victor - they're still not used to being around the boy who killed their tributes. The careers, mentors of Dimitri's three other kills, find it easier to adjust to him. There must be some mantra in career life that states only the best, only the righteous will win the Games - otherwise, they'd be angrier about the fact that their tributes died at Dimitri's hand. Then again, the careers are a different beast than District Six altogether. Isa doesn't know exactly _what_ they believe.

But when Dimitri's final interview is over and the trains are ready to bring Isa back home, she leaves behind the sorrow and worry and rides home with Doug.

She doesn't visit her parents at first. She doesn't want to share the guilt, the grief of having lost her tributes with them yet - she doesn't know what to say, or what they'll believe, or anything. She prefers to stay at home, talking with Doug and pretending that her life had never changed. Yet she's been carried away by the winds of time, stripping away her naivety and making her new. She's not the Isa she was two years ago.

She could never go back.

She visits Celaeno's parents a month after the Games, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a fat check in another. Raymond and Dasher try to refuse the check, insisting that they don't need the money and that she had done all she could for their child, but the two men eventually accept it after they fix Isa a warm meal. She feels happy in the RV, but she eventually leaves. She can tell that they haven't finished grieving.

She visits Akira Dongalls much, much later, after she's worked up the courage to do so. Isa's afraid that some of the venom she once had might have stung Tony's and Gil's older sister, but the girl greets her with a large hug and lets her into the small home. They talk for hours, both sobbing when they remember the two. "I felt so alone when they left… it was hard to know that I've lost both to the Games," Akira admits.

"I understand," Isa replies.

"But I've found someone - I think the boys would have liked him. And - and - oh, I've not told this to anyone but it feels right to tell _you_ for some reason, Isa - I'm pregnant. Antonia if it's a girl, Gilbert if it's a boy."

They sob, and Isa hugs Akira one more time before walking out the door.

The woman won't discover the keys Isa's left for a large, clean apartment - address written on a small note underneath the keys - until hours later, when she begins to make supper and sees them on the kitchen counter.

Isa watches fall come into District Six, then a long, hard winter. It's punctuated with the victory tour, Dimitri Muller standing on a large stage to give a prepared speech to the district. It's short, but Dimitri looks fresher, happier - he's found something to believe in after the Games. He's found something to be his meaning.

And Isa smiles, even when he leaves and District Six heaves a sigh before heading back into the harsh winter.

She understand exactly how he feels.

Time will pass, their scars will heal, and the memories will remain.

But someday, far into the future, they'll find hope. And for now, the thought of that is all Isa needs.

She can be happy.

 **I hope that was an enjoyable epilogue!**

 **CL started as a side project to Hiraeth, because I really enjoyed Impossible and wanted to try my hand at another partial SYOT. Despite a bit of a hiatus (kind of LOL) in the middle, I really enjoyed this - all of the characters were really special, and it was great to give each one of them life. Thank you guys, you really made this SYOT with all of your help and support throughout it. I don't know if I would have finished without you.**

 **Also, we finished on my seventeenth birthday! That's a good way to finish this off, methinks :D**

 **Enjoy. Until we meet again, TheAmazingJAJ**


End file.
